We woke early so that we could make the most of the cooler morning weather on our planned trip to Kamping Poy and Phnom Sampeau.
Kamping Poy is a very large man-made lake. What I could see of it would be at least 100 hectares. It was dug by Cambodians under the 'supervision' of the Khmer Rouge during the mid-late seventies, to provide irrigation via man-made canals to the lower lying rice paddies.
Phnom Sampeau ('phnom' means mountain) is not a mountain at all - but in the Battambang province, it stands out (alongside the crocodile mountiain nearby - another story for another time) because the region is so flat apart from these few protrusions in the landscape. It has many buddhist shrines and stupa (shrines for worship, stupa for burial), as well as a number of caves into which you can venture. A number of these caves are renowned as being places of Khmer Rouge torture and murder. People who required 're-education' were thrown into these caves from holes in the cavern ceilings. Those who didn't die often crawled away to some corner of the caves to die slowly. Perhaps the lucky ones were the ones who were clubbed into unconsciousness before being thrown in. Some people were even beheaded. There are a number of small stupa inside the caves, in which the skulls and remaining bones of those killed here are stored as a shocking reminder of the atrocities innocent Cambodians were exposed to during the reign of Pol Pot's regime. Until recently, some of these remains still had clothes attached...
Anyway, we arrived at CCT after breakfast to discover that Fern and Jedtha were not there. They arrived soon enough, but by the body language between Fern, Florry, Fiona and Trish (who spoils the whole 'F'-ness of the quartet) I could tell something was wrong. During the night, Fern had been robbed. She watched a man reach in through her window and remove some of her belongings - including money and her mobile phone.
This is particularly scary because their security guard (who is a police officer) sits less then four metres from the place where the robbery occurred. This stinks of an inside job, and there is no way the security guard could have missed it.
Corruption reigns supreme in Cambodia.
So, with the arrival of five police officers and a guy wearing a green outift carrying a suitcase with an Australian coat of arms on it, it was decided that we should go ahead on our trip without Fern and Jedtha, who had police matters to deal with.
So, with an air of shcok and fear surrounding us, we left, hoping that Chomreun, our driver, had the English skills to get us through the day.
After an hour or so on pot-hole filled roads through the most amazing countryside imaginable, we arrived at Kamping Poy. The lake, named after a lotus-like plant that grows in its shallows, is a picture of beauty. The beautiful pink water liles are picked before maturation to provide a scrumptios fruit - locally named 'chou' - of which the ovaries are either eaten raw, tasty and mildly sweet, or cooked to give a mouth-watering, nutty flavour.
The Khmer new year sees it filled with locals swimming and relaxing amidst the reeds and under the hand-operated dam - consisting of about a dozen large wooden plates that are raised or lowered by way of giant corkscrew-type winching mechanisms.
Belying the beauty and serentiy of the place (how's the serenity? I hear you ask... indescribable, I think) it is estimated that 20,000 people died in the making of this lake. Sobered by this knowledge, I sat for a while imagining images of thousands of malnourished Khmer dressed in black 'pyjamas' digging their lives away, in the hope of providing their families with a chance at survival. Of young men thrust into roles as soldiers dragging away those unable to work any longer for 're-education'. Of women begging for their husbands and children to be given food and rest. Of children...
Oh, I forgot to mention that the entire CCT entourage was with us - excepting baby Annie - so two vans, 16 kids and 7 adults in total...
Getting out of the van was an experience to behold. We were mobbed by people holding laminated, coloured cards, without a word of English. Noit, one of the CCT staff, also does not speak English so at this point, I thought we were stuffed. I had no idea what was going on, what was being said, and why so many people were yelling at Noit. It is obvious in Cambodia when people want money. It's about the only time you see people yelling. They were trying to sell us something. Of course they were... that's what happens in Cambodia when you're white!
As it turned out, they were trying to get us to sit in their shelters. The going rate is 5,000 Riel ($US1.25) - but how the hell was I supposed to know where to go and which one to choose?
Thank God for Chomreun! He translated what a few people were saying, and, following the advice of a particularly beefy looking local man (you wouldn't describe many Cambodians using the word 'beefy'...) we went to look at the other side of the dam, on which we had parked. It looked suitable, so I picked a spot (oh, the pressure...) and that was it. Everyone left us alone, except the people whose 'spot' we had chosen.
The kids had a swim in the small, stepped pools coming down from the dam which had recently been closed because too much water was going through the canal. Hai and Heang stripped down to nothing and were straight into it, their frog-like bodies seeming to be at home in the water. I'm sure Felicity and Sophia thought this a little funnny - nude boys - but not as funny as Hai when he put his clothes back on - his best suit pants were torn between the legs for about 30cm, so everytime he moved, things jiggled about and poked out at you...
Soon enough, it was time for food. I didn't know what the CCT kids would eat - should they order for themselves? Should I do it? Should we just go, and pretend food doesn't exist?
Luckily, Noit came and did the job for the kids. I ordered some wild boar, whilst Florry, Fiona and Trish played it sensibly, following the gospel according to Lonely Planet, and didn't eat anything.
The food came, and we witnessed a true Cambodian meal. Fish soup, chicken curry, frogs in gravy all in little trays with wood-fires to keep them warm. The kinds seperated - boys, plus Som Nung one way, and the older girls the other. They shared impeccably, not even arguing over the best bits (the chicken feet are enjoyed by most).
When my meal arrived, I had much the same - a cute little metal dish kept warm by a fire in the donut-like recess in the middle, with a pot of rice. But then, an entire chicken was brought out, having just been killed and barbecued, as well as a little plate with some greens and some insignificant, dark-coloured ... blobs!
Yum! I'll say no more, except that my stomach is fine now, 12 hours later and that I got the best meal I have probably ever had!!! Nobody else did... chickens!!!
We left Kamping Poy and headed to Phnom Sampeau, where we were directed into little carports by some locals. If a local directs you to do something it always means one thing. Money. Even in remote Cambodia you have to pay parking fees!!!
-> see above desciption of Phnom Sampeau <-
Other than what is mentioned already, this area is stunning - coconut plams, banana trees and any number of edible goodies growing on the myriad of native plants. Particularly notable was this funny little furry fruit on a tree similar to a silver wattle. The older girls suck them and then get you to try one. When you bite into it they think it's funny, because they are quite sour.
Well, I liked it - as did So-Pee-Pee (the new name for Miss Doyle).
We soon headed back to CCT, and on to the White Rose Restaurant for dinner.
Great food. THE BEST shakes... REAL MILK, fake coffee - and a wonderful local wine made from ginger and palm sugar.
Fiona and Trish are now over the road from the hotel having massages... I may just have to partake in a bit of that myself...
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