Scambodia

2004-03-30T19:27:00.000-08:00

30 March 2004 Melbourne

Arrived home safely, though am suffering a severe headflu. Possible reasons either three months of unremitted body abuse, or birdflu contracted during an 8 hour stopover in Ho Chi Minh airport.

At this airport soon discovered the only way to pass the time was to play "spot the preserved animal" at numerous duty free stores and under the bain marie at Skynet cafe, or buy dollar-cans of tiger beer and use them to fuel endless mimics of people at the airport.

One Australian was just starting his trip overseas. Was confused why his flight that left at 10:00 and arrived at 1:00 had taken more than three hours.

Check in time: am forced to step over large pile of empty tin cans. Try not to draw parallel with Vietnam Airlines construction material.

Finally land at Melbourne airport after surviving VN airways and a Catherine Zeta-Jones film. Intolerable cruelty indeed.

Upon landing, my bag failed to appear on the conveyor belt. As usual, it had been quarantined. This time, ants were found crawling over it in the plane luggage hold. Tell me just who is so attached to their high school antfarm they have to bring it overseas with them? The customs officer made me empty my entire bag. Forced to admit to smuggling three months of dirty underwear.

Love to you all,

THE END.

*Anyone with comments or ideas for a new email address for me can email to jeanclaudevansam@hotmail.com

2004-03-26T04:24:00.000-08:00

26 March 2004 Luang Prabang

Am on way back to VT after traveling right up to the Chinese border. In Muang Sing we did a mountain trek to a "remote hilltribe village", usually the type that hasn't seen white people before (excludes between 10:00-2:00 monday, wednesday and every second sunday).

We opted for the unofficial guide...10 bucks cheaper or so. Well, what can i say but the scenery wasn't great. Despite climbing at 2000 metres (dubious), such was the extent of slash and burn activity it was nearly impossible to see the next mountain ranges.

We arrived at the village and set about relaxing. I tried to sleep of a nasty hangover.The others went for a wander a smoked a 'tartugan' -a new Canadian word, you can work it out.

When they returned there was a perplexing change in the atmosphere. Where but an hour earlier kids had swarmed around them, now their mothers gathered them fearfully out of the way...

It just so happens, during the time we arrived, the second chief of the village had been burnt to death in a slash and burn. The whoile village began wailing and moaning in a most harrowing fashion, and it made us feel quite uncomfortable...especially when it was suggested we might be bad spirits...

Then there was the village mourning ritual where no one can leave for three days following a death...as we were guests we were granted an exemption. Otherwise we planned to stow away at first light ---anyone familiar with Laos village life would know that the village is already buzzing by daybreak, so our chances of this would have been slim!

Throughout the 'ordeal', our guide proved utterly useless, deciding to sit and giggle in the corner rather than offer us any explanations of what was going on....

so ALWAYS use the proper guides!

2004-03-22T17:43:00.000-08:00

23 March 2004 Luang NamTha

Wokeup this morning with eyes watering from pollution and eyes bleeding from communist radio blaring outside my window. My room smelt like farts that weren't my own.

After Vangvien, i went to Luang Prabang. Beautiful three tiered waterfall there. Many temples too, but frankly, i'm over them (perhaps i am no culture vulture after all!). On the way to the waterfall we met this German guy riding around SE Asia. Pretty good way to see remote areas. He said sometimes he meets villagers who have never seen westerners before (Let alone Germans). He said sometimes they are so terrified they drop everything and run. I suggested it was the bike shorts. That night I had a few drinks, and met an Australian roof tiler who had fashioned an opium pipe out of a bamboo flute. The night ended with a swim through the Mekong river.

After LP, spent three days up river in a boat only accesible area called Muang Ngoi. Here i went walking with some other backpackers out to a village. En route, i found a sign that had fallen over. Wishing to help fellow travellers, i propped the sign on top of another sign. Then we went for lunch and a casual wander throught he town. An hour later on our walk back, we met some Israelis just entering the village. They had been looking for it for an hour, despite following all the signs...

Not sure where i will go to next. The golden triangle, third largest opium poppy plantations are only 60 km away which might be good to check out. There is also an extensive national park here, but then again, don't want to overdo all that culture nature stuff!

2004-03-15T23:01:00.000-08:00

15 March 2004 Vangvien, Laos.

Blah blah am now in Vangvien which is a very cool backpacker adventure town. Met an English lady who works with rhinoceroses. Together we went out drank opium tea, smoked a hideous amount of reefers and ate hamburgers.

Hard to say whether the opium had any effect. It’s supposed to be mild and clouding. To me it just tasted like dirt tea. Later a I lay in bed I had some strange visions when I closed my eyes.

I saw Braveheart at a guesthouse last night and met some poms there. They had seen Braveheart many times before. I guess it’s refreshing watching England win something for a change. After the film, went out for some drinks at a local bar. Here we swapped b-grade celebrity stories. They were most interested that I had met “Blair from Neighbours”, however, one guy Adam had a story better.

“My ex-girlfriend’s mum, was not only one of the angels in the turret in Monty Python’s Holy Grail, she also crashed Michael Palin’s mini.” I have his autograph.

After the bar we went looking for a nightclub one guy had the address to. Suddenly there was eleven of us piled into one Tuk Tuk. Lo and behold, the “nightclub” turned out to be a house warming party a little out of town. It was a bit like that ad where there is a real boring tea-party and all the sudden this Bundaberg truck pulls up and this polar bear gives everyone heaps of rum. Don’t know what the hosts thought when eleven us and one polar bear rocked up and tried to mingle surreptitiously.

Me and Freddie kicked things off by going up to a brick wall and spelling our names in pee. Apparently that caused a little commotion, as the wall wasn’t as dark and hidden as we thought. Later we went and introduced ourselves. “Who were those heathens peeing on the wall?” I asked.

I’m not sure much after that, but awoke up standing in the kitchen of the house, still horribly drunk. The English guys had left at about 3:30, but not before some official had come to the party with a Kalashnikov rifle for some reason. Not too clear on that, but hope I wasn’t involved.

Anyway, the important thing was I made it back to my guesthouse by ten in the morning to catch the bus. The guesthouse owner looked me up and down and said “Too many beer Lao?” As luck tends to have it, the bus driver couldn’t find my guesthouse, and so left with out me. I caught the two o’clock but instead.

My guesthouse now is really sweet, all these little cottages right on the river bank, and these amazing hills that rise steeply out of nowhere as a backdrop. The only problem is my toilet is one of those Asian ones that you have to flush by pouring buckets of water into the bowl. What’s more, they hadn’t given me toilet paper. Always prepared, I had not one, but two rolls with me. I got undressed as I was to have a shower, but first decided to sit on the throne. I sat down and contemplated how you would use a toilet without toilet paper.

With a hint of irony, I then discovered I had put my own toilet paper on a wet shelf, and it was now soaked through and useless. Likewise, the shelf was now bone dry. Wish I’d had more time for contemplation! Luckily, there was an extra roll in my bag. The thing was, I had turned the ceiling fan on to cool down the room. This had the side effect of blowing the curtain up so the window was clearly exposed ensuring everyone had a clear view into my cute little cottage. So the choice was this: drop my preciousness and learn to do with toilet paper, or stand naked and rummage for toilet paper for all to see?

I am also compiling a list of actors who if they appear in a film, you know the film is bound to be shit. Currently the list stands at Steve Martin, Chevy Chase, Rick Moranis and all the Culkins. Email me suggestions.

2004-03-12T06:05:00.000-08:00

12 March 2004

Too dumbfounded to write anything after finding out my brother is suddenly going to London for three months.

2004-03-11T00:04:00.000-08:00

11 March 2004 Phnom Penh

Awoke this morning startled to find someone in my room watching me sleep. He was even wearing my clothes. Closer inspection revealed him to be the coat-rack.

This is my last full day in Phnom Penh and at the Post. Am celebrating it by feeling very sleepy. An espresso this morning was enough to knock away the illusions of men watching me sleep, but not the illusion I would be very productive.

Last night I invited myself to join a group of backpackers I saw having fun at the table next to me while I was eating a lonely dinner. I cast just enough cow-eyed glances at them for them to ask me to join them. Ended up having lots of fun, but only because it didn’t come with a hidden 10 percent VAT.

I have just picked up some trousers I had tailor-made. Long thin legged with a high waist, these Khmer tailors know fashion when they hear about it! But you can’t complain for $12, at least until I wear them in public.

Recently I have been voraciously devouring books leading to a substantial improvement in my vocabulary in this sentence. Am currently reading Jack Kerouac ‘On the Road’ and Yesterday I picked up Lord of the Rings in Swedish. As I am currently working very slowly through the Swedish language New Weekly, prospects of finishing The Rings are grim. Tolkiens big mistake was to omit the phrase “He called me his rub rub friend” – that was a quote in the Swedish magazine from that other lord of the rings Michael Jackson.

Tonight is my last chance to go to the Heart of Darkness nightclub –legendary among people who write about Phnom Penh, though of limited appeal to anyone else. Chances are slim.

Speaking of people writing about Phnom Penh, I started reading a book by a journalist about South East Asia called “year of living stupidly” by James Eckhardt. Read two chapters, by which stage I decided it was very similar to “Gecko Tales” (see earlier blog), which was an all too ominous sign. Three people I’ve spoken to since have written it off as crap. These journalists seem to write books because they cannot get work with any other newspaper. When you read the books, you are not surprised.

Now I may go and eat my words. Hopefully I can keep them down.

2004-03-08T03:44:00.000-08:00

9 March 2004 Phnom Penh

My last week in Cambodia and at the Post. This edition am working on reaction to the US new policy on landmines. Rather, the lack of reaction. One ex-pat from a de-mining organisation virtually accused me of "throwing rocks at the Americans"over their policy...I haven't even written the story yet! I figured i would ask him a few leading questions, but he didn't seem to eager to take any bait.

Have also been working this week and last on my radio stories which seem only to get bigger and bigger...at least I have less and less MDs left each week, so i assume they are getting bigger...maybe just boring-er too? Am starting to mess around with Cool Edit Pro which I bought for a whole 2 dollars from the Russian market.

This market is the best place to go to get rip-off anythings -CDs, birkenstocks, gucci handbags (have restrained myself). I don't know what this has to do with being Russian...maybe cause tourists are russian to get there to buy heaps of cheap stuff to fool their friends! I bought a black lacoste t-shirt at another market and wore it today. When I took my t-shirt off, the black remained. It was black on back.

2004-02-28T03:36:00.000-08:00

27 February 2004 Phnom Penh

Arrived today back in Phnom Penh, back to the hordes of guesthouse-commissioned moto drivers hustling for business. One poor guy was holding a sign for a "Mr Shakalaka Boom".

I have been told these Austrian backpackers have a scale of one to ten of bowel movements whereby one is watery acute diarhoea, and ten is constipation. I am currently at about a four. "A good friend of mine" who I am traveling with has been fortunate enough to have had the past two weeks a steady average of five. This is because the first ten days she had about an 'eleven', and then the past two days a solid 'one'. So on average, pretty good score!

In Siem Reap i went to a fantastic land mine museum, though you wouldn't know it existed if you didn't know to look out for it, as the gov't won't let them advertise or promote it. Compared to the temples of Ankor, land mines are not high on the list of what they want the world's eyes to be concentrating on. It is a problem as fascinating as it is horrible. I returned to the museum the next day with my mini-disc but it may not make such great radio. The museum did however sell me my first Cambodian activist t-shirt "land mine museum relief fund". It's not a bad t-shirt actually, a nice lemon colour, though in typical Sam fashion, I wore it out that same night and spilt pink cocktail down the front. Anyone got stain remover?

2004-02-26T05:12:00.000-08:00

26 February 2004 Siem Reap/Ankor Temple

Am thoroughly 'templed-out' at the moment after two good days the Ankor temple complex. You get the picture of all these temples after a while,and if you don't you can always buy the postcard (cheap cheap 2 dollar?). Seriously though it would have been incredibe to be among the first to see the temples...or at least to have preempted the hordes. The whole place is owned by a petroleum magnate, and while prices are steep, it is worth it. I also learnt new Khmer phrase, bringing my total vocabulary to four. I learnt "I don't want to buy it" which is an exceptionally useful phrase around here.

Early morning today saw as up before dawn waiting for a sunrise at the famous ANkor Wat. It was the first time i had been up before dawn since remembrance day - when i was still running through the botanical gardens in my pyjamas by the time the ceremony had concluded. Suffice to say I was more successful today and took some photos identical to ones you see on t-shirts, hats and the national flag.

Elin and I came up here with boat, a seven hour trip from Phnom Penh, the only stops being those when it was necessary to pull river weed out of the motor as the water was so low. Competition for guest houses is very strong. When we arrived at Siem Reap, there were numerous placards awaiting us as we got off the boat. I had given my name in Phnom Penh as "Mr Dick Features".

That's not quite true, but one did say "Fan Davie".

In SIem Reap i have continued my new past time of vomiting after dinner, as if it were a complimentary mint or something. Three in a week is not bad going. Elin is both happy and sad about it, for this was the first occasion I was not lying in bed when I spewed.

2004-02-21T01:48:00.000-08:00

21 February 2004 Sihanoukville (again)

We are in Sihanoukville today, my 'favourite' beach side resort. Actually has been good today, save for three fat people in speedos. I saw the tourist police on the beach and asked him to do something about it -maybe press charges or something....he suggested I report it to the 'fashion police' instead.

We are staying in relative luxury this weekend. Hot water, double bed, and thirty roosters who woke us up this morning at 5:30, and, just like the snooze function on any bad alarm clock, they refused to shut up until we were out of bed, showered and ready for the beach. May their pens be struck down with bird flu.

Last night ate a meal on the beach. They lured us in with complementary "happy cigarette" or fruit salad with every meal. Well, the meal was less than average, and Elin felt that way too after smoking the cigarette.

The other night we were on Bokor mountain, a French ghost town at the top of a mountain range. A fantastic, but eerie place, so i won't even bother trying to describe it further. En route the driver showed us a 600 metre drop where the KR disposed of 1500 people during their revolution. Nothing like a kick up the pants to get a job done it seems.

The night we stayed there, we shared the ranger station with 40 wildlife rangers -guys who patrol the park to prevent poaching and logging. It was there end of basic training celebration, so they had a huge party with lots of grog and dancing. I drank one beer, danced with 40 guys, said 'cheers' to 40 guys, then when the novelty of being really really tall wore off, I went to bed. Half an hour later i spewed up everything, so it wasn't the most ambient party mood for me!

Lastly, last night was also the first night in a week that an animal didn't jump out from the toilet seat. On Tueday night in Kep, I had a half hour session fighting of a giant tarantula using a 'bum gun' (you know those bide hoses) while I sat glued to the throne. Water cannons are a simple but effective weapon.

2004-02-18T21:46:00.000-08:00

20 February 2004 Kampot

Just arrived from Kep, a dillapidated resort town from the 1950s. Elin and I are here on holiday. Yesterday we went to rabbit island, a 15 or 50 minute boat trip from Kep -i couldn't hear which one he said. Either way, both were correct. This was because 50 metres out from Kep our rudder fell off, then we started taking water. 50 minutes later we arrived to a relatively sandy beach inhabited only by sand crabs, three bungalows and a group of French backpackers.

Last night we nursed sunburn and ate a lunch/dinner of squid hoodle soup and shrimp. We were tempted by the crap hoodle soup or else the riee chick on reg batel soup.

Our room was an experience. Imagine plywood walls held together with chewing gum. We slept under a mozzie net. I hadn't showered so still had sand which rubbed on my sunburn. I'm not sure why, but electricity in Kep only runs from 6pm to 6am. When I woke up this morning in desperate need of a pee, i quickly realised it must have been shortly after 6 as it was still dark, but there was no lights working. I do not have a torch, so i would need something to light up the bathroom if i was to avoid peeing all over the place (all boys have impeccable aim, but just in case you know!). I fumbled around on the table and soon found my osama lighter. It worked a treat, and for a brief moment this morning, the entire guest house was treated to a striking two tone rendition of fur elise accompanied by the sound of boy peeing near toilet.

This afternoon we will probably go to Bokor national park. Ít's an old French ghost town in the mountains. We just have to work out how to get there without getting ripped off.

2004-02-12T00:39:00.000-08:00

12 February 2004 Phnom Penh

Last night I was victim of assault. The perpetrator was half a happy pizza, ordered very very happy. I awoke feeling like I’d been drugged, which is not surprising considering that’s exactly what had happened. The drinks were to celebrate our departure from the two Aussie photographers Adam and Megan. We bought a bottle of Gordons Gin at Pencil Supermarket for $6.50. It was a tough call. Bombay sold for $9.50, but we were skeptical of getting through one litre. We sat outside our guesthouse and drank it, then we went to the quay for a bite to eat.

This morning I awoke in my new awesome room. And then went and sat on my awesome western toilet for twenty minutes alternating between reaching for toilet paper and reaching for the door to rest my sleepy head on. My room is five floors up, with a view over one third of Phnom Penh. The 112 steps would have been a good exercise substitute had I moved here earlier.

Seeing an earthworm in my bathroom was the final straw at that previous room, after I successfully cultivated mould on my backpack and saw a three inch centipede when I was having a shower (he retreated to a crack when I shot him with the bum-gun).

Today is the last day for Georgia and myself, though I will likely stay on another issue when I come back from my two week holiday. Tonight we all will try happy pizzas again to celebrate…or given the brain damage, perhaps that should be cerebralate. Can’t get enough happiness here!

2004-02-07T03:28:00.000-08:00

7 February 2004 Battambang

Today we find ourselves in Cambodia's second largest city, up here for journalism research/ holiday. I plan to do a few minidisc stories while i am here and had a ripper day today. I basically followed liam out all day, he wanted to find a witch doctor to put a charm on his ex girlfriend. Well, he had a surprising turn of events, but you'll have to listen to the radio to hear about it. Then we went to Boat Mountain, a fantastic Pagoda atop some sheer limestone cliffs. They are in process of carving a huge buddah into the cliff face, ala Mount Rushmore. They reckon it will take seven years. Before i knew it, Liam was interviewing them all about it, and i found myself shimmying up this precarious bamboo structure, about twenty metres (no shit) up this sheer cliff face to get some photos. I doubt travel insurance would have covered me if i fell.

2004-02-07T03:14:00.000-08:00

6 February 2004 Phnom Penh

I hesitate to say i woke up this morning...it's probably more apt to say "came to", at 8:55am, late for work!

The last night we went on a bender, all in the name of research. For dinner we ate lamb and three veg, better than any time i'd had it in Australia.

The company was good as well. To Brisbane Photography students and this larger than life photographer relic from the Vietnam War named TIm Page. In fact, most people here are larger than life, it's kind of a prerequisite.

I'd first read about Tim in Gecko Tales, a travelogue written by some journo who didn't quite make it. "Oh that scrag," said Tim. "When I was living at the PP Post, I used to have to tell Michael Hayes to lock the downstairs door so whe owuldn't sneak in and try to seduce me."
Some things are probably better left unsaid and unwritten.

After dinner, during which time Page and all the other older and far better established media community here consumed a massive pile of weed, us journo interns took the photographers out to shoot photos i'm doing on a story about western influences on young Cambodian consumers.

At the first joint, Martinis, there was certainly Cambodians under the influence of Westerners. We weren't allowed to take cameras in, no wonder either, as this place was easily the seediest place i've ever been to. The average age was 35 years old, only because I work out averages by adding the highest and lowest ages and dividing by two. Hence, 70 + 10 /2=35.

Megan (photographer) and I stood at the bar, sipping vodka sunrises and spying on an old man slide his fingers fown some girl's pantie line. This prompted some discussion from us, at which point a man, who actually was about 35, chimed in with "if you don't like it, don't come here".

I can draw an analogy to watching a Julia Roberts Film. Before you see it, you know it's going to be bad, so why make the others who do like it feel annoyed and irritated (as weoll as very guilty) by paying out and whinging about it.

After this unique experience, we went to another joint called U2. Here I thought i would give back to the Cambodian coimmuinity who had taught me so much the previous month. In no time i had a circle going on the dancefloor, and was teaching Khmers how to do breakdance throwdowns. Well, i had a pretty successful turn on the floor, during which i lost Georgia's wallet and my new pen. She found her wallet. I didn't find my pen.

So, this morning i once again awoke with a bruise on my chin. I don't think i'll ever learn that doing the worm is bad news all round.

2004-02-04T22:56:00.000-08:00

The good news I have opened up my heart to the world and am sponsoring a Cambodian baby. I have named him Herbert, and he is a parasite who lives with me now 24/7.

Unfortunately for Herbert, I am afraid my lifestyle may not make me the greatest host. Last night Georgia and I went for ''one'' beer after work. Well, the moonraker cocktails were out by 9:00, so perhaps that's why i am retarded by lethargy today. Tonight, out again to nightclubs, all in the name of research. Am doing a story on Western influences on Cambodian consumer youth....Any reason to go to a nightclub other than "so i can dance, man".

The Post is still great fun, though got a bit blown out of the water the other day. A german doco maker contacted Michael Hayes, the legendary Post publisher, about an article I had written on evictions of vendors at the beach in front of a major resort development at Sihanoukville. He had done a bit of research which didn't equate to what I had written. I went to Hayes' office to talk about it, thinking I would get dragged over coals, but he said "Mheya, the only issue is what you write back to him". Sorted. While there is no real excuse for errors in stories, I honestly thought what I was writing was correct at the time, given the not infrequent language difficulties I had to deal with.

Otherwise, am contemplating staying here another week or two. Have started making a radio story on a Ry Cooder-esque guy matching old musician masters with hip hop and jazz groups. Very interesting.

This weekend maybe going up to the country and ride one of the legendary cambodian trains. Apparently it takes 12 hours to cover what a minibus does in 2. Sounds like Connex is involved. Trains also sprung to notoriety here when three western backpackers were kidnapped from one by the Khmer Rouge, and then killed. SO...it's going to be a fun weekend!

Georgia won't be coming with us though. She is covering a press conference on Sunday for Minnie Driver, the latest celebrity to attach herself to a cause in the name of goodwill....does she have a film or something coming out soon? So far, the best celebrity endorsement I have encountered here is Roger Moore, doing his bit for "iodised salt".

2004-02-01T06:18:00.000-08:00

This weekend has been dedicated to getting into the "real" Cambodia. This means escaping Phnom Penh up the Mekong river, swimming with endangered freshwater dolphins in the Kratie Province, eating tarantulas in spiderville, and then taking my first Cambodia "bus" home...ie a minibus so crowded it drove on a permanent 30 degree angle sideways...Boats as much as possible are the way to go in the future I think.

Aside from the spiders, Georgia and I stretched the limits of our drawing skills trying to ordera meal at a restaurant in Kampong Chom. We vowed to stray from the lonely planet when going to a restaurant, but it was harder than expected. The first restaurant didn't have a menu. The second one didn't have a cook. The third one, we didn't know what we ordered, but this gas burner appeared in front of us and some raw meat and veg. Then a woman threw it all into the pot and cooked in a soup for a couple of minutes. Then waht followed was one of those excruciating awkward moments when you teeter on the edge of cultural embarassment. I was probably being anal, but gee i felt really unsure about eating that meat. Particularly after seeing other 'meat' at the market earlier...a flyblown cow hoof! the thing was, since the entire family was standing around us, about 7 or 8 people, we had no choice but to eat it...to their credit, I didn't feel iull the next day, maybe a lesson in not being too anal about what you eat.

Next day we took a boat up the Mekong, sitting on the roof for three hours...you don't want to be trapped inside if it capsized! i have been reading this swedish crime novel and was quite proud of almost getting to the end. I had only 40 pages left to read and I had reached a crucial moment in the narrative. As i reached for my boat ticket to give to the attendant, i caught a glimpse of my book flying away down the Mekong. The previous book I had bought, I left on the plane.

Well, the provinces were otherwise fantastic, and we found a bookstore to buy more pulp fiction as well as ample supply of travel books written by journalists who had found the real Cambodia. Quite boring really, remind me never to write a book.

Work again tomorrow, take it easy, write me a mail at jeanclaudevansam@hotmail.com

2004-01-29T03:44:00.000-08:00

28 January 2004 Phnom Penh

Deadline day strikes again. This morning was spent updating my bird flu story...chicken for dinner anyone? how about duck?

This arvo I was called up to take some photos to help another reporter who is following the assassination of trade union leader Chea Vichea last week. We turned up to the police station where the chief of police was to speak. I am standing there with this little camera around my neck, feeling completely out of place against all these guys with hunting vests and khaki trousers, armed to the teeth with lenses, films and flash bulbs. Well, my shirt I was wearing was beige, so I didn't stick out too much. My fallic camera left a lot to be desired though.

Well, before I knew it, these two guys with hoods over their heads were being rushed into the cop shop...suspects in the murder. I found myself somewhere around their feet, looking up through a camera lens at these poor guys crying and professing their innoncence. In Australia, a suspect to a murder wouldn't even be named, let alone paraded in front of a media scrum. It was quite a powerful experience, particualrly as I doubt if anyone really thought these guys were guilty.

As my memory card was rapidly filling, I had the strange contradiction of alternating between taking photos of bawling murder suspects with deleting photos of my beach holiday. I am not much of a photographer, but when you take 40 photos, you're bound to get one you can use! I am still to see whether my photo made it in to press. If so, that would bring my contributions this edition to two! Next edition though, big things!

Tomorrow Georgia and I are taking a three day holiday up the Mekong. Till then, take it easy...we will.

2004-01-26T03:09:00.000-08:00

25 January 2004 Sihanoukville

“On the trail of Gary Glitter”

We took a short trip (read 5 hour bus ride) down to this coastal retreat this weekend, to spend some time lounging on the beach and swimming in warm water. It was the first time I had effectively had a bath in three weeks, and I can now be sure that I have wet every part of my body at least once.

Aside from the gentle rustle of coconuts high up in the warm coastal breeze, the only sound to bother us was that of four hundred beggars and fruit sellers constantly parading up and down the beach moaning “money? money? Pleeez seerh muurney? Arrgghh.” The response to this is either a firm “No” or else a polite “Can I put it on credit?” Some could hardly be said to be parading, rather crawling up the entire beach on their arses due to their deformed or missing legs. One guy we were sitting with worked giving out prosthetics to land mine victims. He said that beggars usually leave their prosthetics at home for the purposes of sympathy.

And then there was the fruit sellers…They were extremely well versed in English and would just sit down next to your chair, and talk to you. It was as if they been part of some conversation with me that had gone along the lines of “You want to buy fruit?” “Sure. Why don’t you pull up a seat and tell me what you’ve got on offer. Oh, and do you sell ornaments made out of rare coral?- Because that would look really nice on the table next to the fruit platter.”

If you refused to buy their fruit, they asked “Why not?” One Vietnamese girl -wearing a t-shirt of Britney Spears “Princess of the Feverness”- challenged me to a game of ‘noughts and crosses’. It was agreed the winner would either buy the fruit or be left in peace momentarily. It must speak volumes for my intellect that I actually managed to lose this one. However, the girl was ultimately the loser as we bought fruit off someone else later.

That night we went out to the beach again to have dinner and drinks. One place had free curry and a falcon blind in one eye. We two ordered “buckets” of Mekong whiskey and coke, I ordered seconds of the curry. While ideally a bucket is a large glass bowl with multiple straws done up like a Vegas style cocktail, in this instance, a Tupperware jug and a stripy straw sufficed. By the end of the night, the falcon and I were the only ones not fully blind.

Of course, the whole weekend had a grand sense of occasion about it. From the moment we arrived, we were informed that none other than Garry Glitter had been spotted –bald though wearing a long white beard and cowboy hat, and maybe also a little boy. Sadly I never saw Garry himself, though many hours were spent chasing old white haired men with a camera.

2004-01-22T02:34:00.001-08:00

22 January 2004.

The head of the trade union labor movement got assassinated just around the corner today…just another day in Cambodian politics really. We had CNN in Hong Kong ring us up for comment, though by that stage none of us even knew it had occurred. As a fortnightly publication, the paper has a stronger focus on feature articles and ongoing issues rather than daily news. John the freelance photographer took some graphic photos which were very confronting.

On Khmer-language dailies, there is not much censorship of images…at least of graphic accidents. On Tuesday one of the papers ran front page with a photo of a moped driver who had his head run over by a truck. The photo left not a lot to the imagination. Another photo further down the page was of a woman in a body bag, also a road accident. Most of the body was in a green bag. Eap explained that this was because a bike had ridden over her stomach and spilled her innards everywhere. He had seen this on his way home from work.

I have been pretty ill the past two days, waking up at 20 minutes past the hour, every hour with explosive vomiting and diarrhea. At least it was regular! However, today I am feeling better. I think it’s my body’s way of telling me it cannot handle the movies on HBO film channel. Or Star movies. It seems these two channels bought up every film from 1980, and are contracted to play all ten years worth before they can move up to playing films from 1990. When one channel is playing Steve Martin, the other is running with Nicholas Cage.

This weekend a bunch of us are going down to Sihanoukville –Cambodia’s beach resort. It is meant to be pretty nice. Some people say it is not as nice as Thailand, but by this do they just mean not as many resorts? I’ll keep you posted.

2004-01-22T02:34:00.000-08:00

20 January 2004
Phnom Penh

The “sensitive Sam” referred to in previous posts was blessed with a new side today –that being the sensitive stomach. Nothing like a good ol’ poo and spew to welcome me into my third week in the third world.

Am not sure of the cause yet, and will probably never know for sure. However, it could possibly be due to the Russian meal we ate last night. I had forgotten that Russia is world renowned for their cuisine, with such delicacies as ‘chicken breast stuffed with liver’, and the ‘potatoes done three ways’. I myself settled for the house special. It was ‘meat’ (probably the same ‘meat’ in four’n’twenty meat pies) coated with cheese, on a bed of capsicum, mushroom and tomato. Essentially the same meal eaten by careful budgeting university students in Australia -though even I managed to avoid such a low during uni.

Nonetheless, today is another day, and I can console myself on two counts. Firstly, Georgia is also feeling queasy, though has not vomited yet. Secondly while out to lunch at a Chinese restaurant, I bought a S11 zippo lighter, complete with silver plated Osama bin Laden, flashing lights and a two-tone rendition of ‘Fur Elise’.

Oh yeah, the Chinese didn’t stay down long.

PS yesterday some little kid nearly peed all over my leg. I was walking on the footpath and (stupidly) walked in front of some naked little boy. Before I know it I’m doing the high jump of this golden arch which was otherwise destined for my suit. Little bastard!

2004-01-17T21:33:00.002-08:00

13 January 2004 (group email) Phnom Penh

Hey all, am now working on the PP Post, and working off a mighty hangover. Last night this guy from Agence France Presse shouted me at this bar all night. Handy! Next door to the bar is this pizza joint where you can order "happy" pizzas. I've been warned to only order them on weekends, as they knock you about for about three days.
On Saturday I got in touch with that caring and sharing side you all know I have somewhere, and worked at an orphanage. Well i was supposed to be planting trees, but because of the fucken Iron Age implement I was using, I had blisters popping before I even knew I had blisters. Seriously, I still have this cut the size of a twenty cent piece on my hand. As luck would have it I started work two days later, and had to shake everyone's hand as you do. Probably think I’m some limp wristed sissy. That's the price of charity ey'. Well, I bet Prince William in the South American highlands never got blisters when he did charity work, eah don't know where I’m going with this.
In this program we were supposed to do the first week with the embassy...that turned out to be about two half hour meetings. The ambassador was back in Australia apparently...her husband had committed suicide within a day of arriving in Phnom Penh...personally I didn't think the food was that bad!
I am pondering stories to write here, you really get thrown in the deep end, but it's a lot of fun. Maybe I could write one on why they have pink toilet paper in third world countries. It's not as if it makes diarrhoea any prettier!

2004-01-17T21:33:00.001-08:00

9 January 2004 (group email) Phnom Penh.

Hi, I don't remember whether I wrote to you all last night, was a bit pissed, but that's par for the course here. Phnom Penh is fantastic; today I bought a mobile phone (old shitty one) and a motorbike helmet (very cool looking).

First day here I went to a shooting range and fired an AK47...also had hand grenades for US60...hmmmm. Apparently they had bazookas you could fire at cows as well. Then went to deeply depressing killing fields....a temple with seventeen layers high of human skulls and mass graves all around, including the tree they hit babies against to save bullets...even worse was the torture museum at an old high school (yes, we all now VCE is torturous.). They balconies outside of the building were covered in barbed wire to stop inmates committing suicide by jumping. But even worse, they had this movie theatre where they would chain inmates up and make them watch Steve martin films. That sounds too cruel to be true though. Initially this torture was rigged up to give you electric shocks through the fingernails whenever you laughed...but this didn't seem to happen too much. Maybe they should have tried Chevy Chase movies instead.

2004-01-17T21:33:00.000-08:00

Saturday 17 January 2004.

“You can the boy out of a clean house, but you can’t take the house cleaner out of the boy”.

Last night was editor Mike Coren’s farewell drinks Vol 1. For Georgia and me it was also to celebrate our first stories I guess. It was at this rooftop bar called Tamarind on street 240. It was not too bad!

I was having a grand old time when this Belgian photographer had a few brief words with me. She had taken photos for the story on slum eviction I had written, and had told me to get in touch with a guy from an NGO for info. Well, the first thing she said was that after the article was published, the guy had now been getting death threats. As the paper was only published in the morning, I was instantly in admiration of the speed at which a death threat could be made these days! I know it is statistically impossible, but I think she was about 105 percent lying.

She said “you mentioned his name about six times!” in a perfect example of a question/statement/answer. Of course, it came out more like “Zhoo Mentiorrrn hiz nihm aboud zix timezz”. All that was missing was the “RUOH HO HOOOR” laugh. Either way, I figure if I’d mentioned his name once or forty, it was irrelevant. He had not spoken to me on condition of anonymity, and had only later tried to censor what I quoted him. Mike Coren was a firm believer in quoting sources. It seems that if we caved in to all the people who wanted to be quoted anonymously in hindsight, the entire paper would be so anonymous that even I would have to change my byline to “An undisclosed reporter”. If she doesn’t like what I write, next time she should write it her bloody self.

Anyway she left after she had said her piece, and I left about four hours later, by which time there was only four other people, one of whom was a mouth organ. We went to a bar down the road called Rubies. It was owned my two aussie girls, who to me seemed a little too cool for school. I ordered a grapefruit juice on the rocks (whoa!) and sat down on these room full of nice couches in the back room. It was quite pleasant as the couches were soft, and the ceiling fan revolved above me at a fast pace, which was necessary considering the ceiling was about four metres high.

Well, I didn’t have too long to dwell on the interior decorating before a giant feather duster caught my eye. It was as long as the room was high. I immediately went for it, with the intention of using it to annoy everyone else who sat on the surrounding couch. Imagine the hilarity. A giant “CRUNCH” sound was all it took to remind me that there was a ceiling fan suspended about 3.7 metres above me. Virtually the entire bar ran in to see me holding a particular long feather duster in my hand wondering what the hell had happened. I decided that was as good a cue as any to go home.