I noticed, there are some really stupid people out there.

The worst thing about traveling I think, is all the incredibly stupid people you encounter and have to deal with. Some people make me angry, but most of the time, they just makes me very sad. So sad I really would have preferred not to know about their existence.

Like this guy on the bus from Sihanoukville in Cambodia.

On every bus tour in Cambodia, they show these Cambodian karaoke videos. And I love it, the music, the dancing and all the happy people always puts me in such a good mood! I will definitely listen to Khmer music, once I am back in Sweden too.

But alright, as a foreigner traveling in Cambodia, you don't even need to like it, that is alright. But, this stupid guy on the bus from Sihanoukville, ACTUALLY WENT TO THE BUS DRIVER AND ASKED HIM TO TURN IT OFF - 'BECAUSE I DON'T LIKE IT!' You are in Cambodia stupid fucker. I tried to tell the bus driver that I wanted the music, but nope, we had to enjoy the rest of the ride in silence. Silence. How very nice.

Bangkok and The Overstay, or "why did you make me tell you how ugly your ears are?"

thai fellows without shirt one early morning at the overstay

 

I came to Bangkok with no money in my pockets. A quick search for a cheap hostel at Hostelworld led me to The Overstay. The Overstay is an old whorehouse, where you can get a bunk bed in a dorm for 50 Baht/Night (1,67USD). If you don’t mind some cockroaches crawling in your room, if you don’t mind cats and if you are not dependent on service, but instead fancy art and want to meet and exchange ideas with some interesting people, The Overstay is without doubt the place to stay in Bangkok. If you are interested in the underground scene of Bangkok, the owner of The Overstay, Yuval will let you in about it too.

I ended up staying at the Overstay for one week. One intense week. My room was just over the sound system, and Overstay never gets quiet, so instead of sleeping I ended up sitting reading my book or something companying Ball, a Thai artist working on his art while also doing the nigh shift at Overstay. 

third floor out of six

One day this Australian moved into our room. And this Australian fellow could not stop picking on us. He desperately wanted to elicit a reaction, and in order to pursue; he did not hesitate to attack all of our week spots in a way that will leave you more or less hurt, no escape. Funny that he asked me if he reminded me of someone. His behavior did indeed resemble a few persons I have earlier met.

The Australian fellow -Do I remind you of someone?

Me -Yes. You remind me of this malicious guy that used to hang out in my childhood area when I was about 11-12 years old. And this guy, he always teased the other kids, he said the meanest things to harm, and in fact, he probably found a strange satisfaction in doing it. So one day, he went too far and I found no other way but to use his own weapon against him. So, I was twelve years old, he was at least one year older then me. I looked at him, and I looked at his prominent ears. I took a deep breath, and then I told him how ugly his ears where. Still today I remember the impact my words had on him, and it makes me feel very bad.

We left Overstay with a strange feeling of relief. 

I developed some film.

I developed some film, here are some of my favorite shots.

Ho Chi Minh-City

sunset Phu Qouc Island

Mekong

you don't understand fish

- Hey SJ, I saw two dead fishes in the lake yesterday.
- Yeah, they probably committed suicide. To stressed out by taking care of the family, and they probably overused their credit card, got in debt.
- No, I think there is some kind of disease in the lake.
- You don't understand fish.

alnost kidnapped in Cambodia.

 I went out and did exactly what everyone told me not to do. 
‘Be careful, Cambodia is not safe, don’t be alone outdoors after 9pm, don’t go with someone you don’t know’
And I admit it, I was very scared on his motorbike in the dark, dark suburbs of Battambang, as he refused to take me back to my hotel, and I was very scared when I found my self lost in the dark ghost city that Battambang turns into after dark. 
However, there wasn’t really anything to be afraid of. Trust your gut feeling. If you are afraid and vigilant, you wont find yourself in no adventures and you wont meet no people. 


So, I had just arrived in Battambang, Cambodia’s third biggest city (still not very populated though. In Cambodia contrary to almost everywhere else, only 20% of their population lives in the cities) (which is about to change as more then 40% is under 16 years old, and these youngsters will most likely live a more urban life, migrating to the cities – a move that will dramatically change the contemporary Cambodian society).
Time was ‘bout 5 pm in Battambang, I was walking the streets to catch a glimpse of Battambang as a moto driver dude approached me to offer a small city tour with him. Well, that’s what I thought he offered me anyway; he hardly spoke one word English. Nevertheless, ‘sure show me your city!’ I said delighted and jumped on behind him on his motorbike. Five-six hours later I thought it might be necessary for me to jump off that bike while it is running (picturing how much it would hurt), if this dude won’t take me back to my hotel very soon. But that’s jumping the conclusion. 


First, he took me to his home village, and to his home to meet his wife and little daughter. They were extremely poor. They lived in a shed by the river. One girl spoke a few words English so we were able to communicate some. 


Then he took me to visit his mom, an old, but stunning, vivid old lady. Communication was slow as no one spoke English here. But we introduced ourselves and they made me sit down and eat some fruits with them. By now it got dark, and it got very dark as the village lacked electricity. Hence the only light coming from candles. We all sat there in the very dark, gathered around a candle, chewing our fruit. And I was thinking, what can I do to help these people?


It happened that this Saturday night at a field outside Battambang there was a sort of festival/carnival that gathered around thousand locals. I was the only westerner. It seemed to be an event to raise money for poor people and landmine victims, because numerous monks where collecting money and hundreds of beggars: children, elderly, amputated and whole families sat or laid on the road with their beggar’s bowls. One dirty little kid was lying all alone in the dark ditch, and he scared me, cause I thought it was a dog lying there. It was arranged so that you could change one us dollar into forty 100 Riel-bills, making it easier to allocate the money, to give something to everyone. I tried to put one 100 riel bill in every bowl, but they where so many, everywhere, looking at me, begging me, holding their bowls at me. 


When I finally came back to the hotel, I cried. I cried a lot. 


Chin didn’t mean to scare me. He just wanted to show me as much as possible, in order to get a money donation from me. He could not understand how startled it was for me not knowing where I was or where I was going, in the dark surrounded by strangers unable to communicate with. However, I feel no remorse going with Chin that March afternoon in Battambang, northeast Cambodia.  

my "kidnapper"  Chin and I

I ♥ CAMBODIA

Angkor Wat

‘It is not the temples, it is the people!’ 
as the shirtless old cowboy I encountered in Phnom Penh proclaimed. And he ought too know that cowboy, visiting Cambodia for the first time already in 1990. 


I’d say it is both though. I found Cambodia fascinating at so many levels. Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom and the other temples in Siem Reap did in deed blow my mind. But as exuberant I found the temples, as much did I value chatting with my moto driver during our lunch break. And riding the bamboo train, visiting Pagoda’s, Temples and the Killing Cave in Battambang would not have made it one of the best days of my life if it hadn’t been for the company of my moto driver Ob Pengan. He took me through all the small villages surrounding Battambang, and even, in the evening, to a Cambodian discotheque. It is the people that make the temples dynamic, alive and vivid. 


In the 2010 Lonely Planet Cambodia edition you can read that ‘(Siem Reap) is one of the most popular destinations on the planet right now’. This you will not fail too notice, along with the enthusiasm of the Khmer people. Everyone greet the growing tourism, that according too people I’ve been talking to, had it’s boom three years ago and is since then increasing every year. There is however, danger around the corner. Foreign investors starting too see the great potential in Cambodia, and with a poor government and a country still recovering from the Khmer Rouge Regime, short term profits are hard to turn down. During my visit to Cambodia, the lake was sold to Japanese investors; with the result of people being forced to leave their homes. This being just one example of many similar “land takings”. 


Cambodia is in a great position, but it has to play their cards right, learning from their neighbors mistakes. But what ought Cambodia to do, it can’t be everything for everybody? 


The majority of travelers I’ve met, and discussion I’ve read on CS, are all mentioning this “too touristy”, and that they want to experience the “real”, the “authentic” country. I understand this, however I can’t help pondering what is authentic? And what right do travelers have to demand that a place stays the same (“real” “authentic”), as more and more tourists are going there, being a huge source of profit and an opening for a better life for the people living there? Of course they shift focus to tourism as their main income. And then, the travelers regard the place “too touristy”, ( and not "authentic" enough ).


A lot of Cambodians that I have spoken too, ask me to tell everyone that I know to come to their country, to come visit Cambodia. So I would like to do that, I would like to encourage everyone to visit Cambodia, and while in Cambodia, spend money, but spend them wise and make sure they end up in the right pockets. 

pals in kampot

tuk tuk driver friend

temple and my moto driver "Rock".

only one train in one direction, please remove your train.

having lunch with my motodriver and friend Pengan in Battambang.

oooops.

KEP and a handsome but sad man called Bush.

Kep Crab Market

Kep, a small city situated south of Cambodia close to the Vietnamese border. A place offering scarcely nothing more then a not so interesting ”beach” and a roundabout including a row of Guesthouses, the most popular being Brise de Kep 

(a few kilometers outside Kep you have Kukuluku Gueshouse as well, which looked all right, having live music every now and then so I’ve heard) ). If Brise de Kep Guesthouse is booked up, you might find yourself staying at the guesthouse next to Brise de Kep, like I did, and my new friend Sara from France did.

And at that other Guesthouse you’ll find two very charming, handsome, in their late twenties, beer drinking Cambodian employees. It seems, as there is not much else to do in Kep, but to drink beer. So why don’t you join the guys for some beer drinking.

One of these charming guy’s called Bush (!). Bush wore a cap sayin’ something like ”music is always true to your emotions”, which makes me ask him if he likes music whereupon they tell me a heartbreaking story bout Bush growing up lovin’ to play that guitar and used to go to the much bigger city Kampot, 30 mins away to spread his infatuation for guitarplayin’ and entertain the tourists. For unknown reasons he was though later forced too move to Kep.  In Kep he continued playing the guitar for some time, ‘he used to play at that place over there, his friend says pointing in the direction of a little house with a guitar attached over the front door, but now he doesn’t play the guitar anymore. He can’t play the guitar anymore, he continues in a melancholy way.  And this breaks my heart and I ask why, but Bush just looks at me with sad, big brown drunken eyes. And I turn to his friends to seek an answer, but they all avoid my glance, staring obstinately down at the ground, ‘I just can’t play the guitar no more”, I hear Bush says with his sad, quiet voice.

And that makes me very sad. Until he, one hour or so later, reveal to me ‘aaaw don’t be sad for me, we just made that story up, I don’t play no guitar’. That was a great story!  How fun aren’t these two guys too hang out with!

So when Bush later wants to take Sarah and me to the famous crab market (where the crabs are taken straight from their little cage in the ocean) (almost as fresh as the shrimpies we fried alive in Vietnam I suppose) we agree. We drink more beer and by now Bush is getting drunk slur on his words ‘Oh no fun without beer tsss thats sad, every day I drink beer’. And then tells us the story of his love life; the cap was actually a gift from his Japanese girlfriend. The Japanese girl really loved him, but Bush didn’t love her ‘so then when I fell in love with a girl from Russia, she didn’t love me. Cause I didn’t love the Japanese girl that loved me’. (seemed as he did some thinking about that one) And Bush tells us that he might look soft on the outside, but on the inside, he is very hard. Getting real drunk by now, Bush. Looks very sad. Looks very hard on the inside. So I show him my happy tattoo. He seems to like it.

He gets us a few more beers to go, and takes us (on his motorbike), to sit in the night and just look and listen to the ocean. ‘This is where I go every night to sit by myself and contemplate’, he says. It is nice. He thinks Sarah is a Russian. It seems by now he is hammered.

In Kep, there are no streetlights. The small city is covered in dark. Making the motorbike ride, with three people on the motorbike and a hammered driver, quite a ride back to the Guesthouse.

Later when I have my last cigarette for the night, I can see him walkin’ round without his shirt slur something bout ‘fuckin fuck everyone goes away, sooo hard on the inside, everyone goes waay, fuckin.’

And the next day we leave the small city Kep, going to Kampot. Bush arranges a cheap bus for us and waves goodbye. What a character this Bush, what a nice man. And later a new bus with tourists arrive to Kep, perhaps some of them will spend one night in Kep.