Monday, December 11, 2006
Larry Cops a Hat
Tuesday, December 5
The last temple of the Cambodian part of the tour is 90 minutes away from the hotel, and we’re talking country roads here: not dirt & potholes, but very uneven surfaces, plenty of dust and enough bone jarring bouncing for the most avid bronco buster.
Banteay Srei Temple almost seems like a miniature temple, as it was peopled almost exclusively by Buddhist nuns, and the doorways rarely exceed 5’ in height. It is said that only the delicate hands of women would be capable of carving the amazing details found on most lintels, including one memorable ‘reflection’ scene in which sun appears to be eating the moon (an eclipse?). The color and quality of the sandstone in this part of the empire also sets this temple apart from the others, with its deep red hues familiar to visitors to the Grand Canyon, but with finer grit, hence amazing ability to hold artistic detail.
Another extraordinary treat is the music which bathes the site. What sounds at a distance like a traditional Khmer wedding band is anything but, for rounding the corner, one sees a shocking ensemble of misshapen bodies, dutifully bowing, plucking and banging their instruments at unexpected angles since most are missing limbs, eyes, or both. A hand drawn sign informs us that these are the Land Mine Musicians, whose playing is as joyful and expert as you would ever want to hear, but their heartbreaking circumstances are a visceral reminder that ancient scenes of death and destruction that decorate the temples of centuries past is still very much a part of the Cambodian present. One player deftly balances his instrument on the stump of one arm as he simultaneously holds and fingers the tiny flute with his remaining hand. Another, who smilingly sells the group’s homemade CD between numbers, also holds his instrument in his one remaining hand, a wide green leaf with a single fold placed on the inside of the lower lip, and exuding a beguiling wail that soars above even the two bowed tros, hammered dulcimer, trough marimba and mandolin that accompany him.
Once back in the bouncy bus, our long ride home is punctuated by a visit to a roadside manufacturer and vendor of palm sugar candy. In front of most stilted houses along this road, one sees identically shaped silver metal cauldrons boiling atop earthen ovens. The liquid is juice collected nightly in foot-long bamboo tubes from the sugar palms that grow throughout the areas. Each morning, the nocturnal harvest is boiled down to a tasty blonde paste that resembles maple candy but tastes like buttered sugar cane when cooled and wrapped in folded banana leaves. Quite a few of us leave the roadside stand with sticky fingers, sweetened tongues, and a few more goodies to pack.
And pack we must, for tonight we head to the brand new airport at Siem Reap on the next leg of our journey to North Vietnam. But not before spending a few expensive hours wandering through the Old Market in search of last minute bargains, this being December season of giving, and the prices will never be better. How did a dirt cheap high-end North Face back pack end up in a dingy stall next to pig snouts and dried fish? Are these knock-offs? Not on your life: where do you think most of the Famous American label manufactured items that fill our shelves and closets are actually made? Read any of your labels lately? Chances are that a hefty percentage of everything you use, wear or buy was made within 200 miles of where we stand.
Hundreds of stalls offer gorgeous Cambodian silks woven into table cloths, scarves, neck ties, pillow cases and more, and the prices are outrageously low, prompting many of us to add a few more pounds to their luggage. Wooden cowbells attract the ear and eye, while the antique Chinese teacups seem to have little metal straws coming out of them. Oops! not teacups at all, but hash pipes – elegant little Oriental bongs that are displayed alongside highly ornamented carved tusks of all sizes that perform the same task, sans liquid. Many dollars exchange hands, though two purchases in particular have now attained legendary status:
#1: A group of us were helping Lynn find some ‘guy’ gifts, since most of the women on her shopping list were spoken for. Eric was also in the market for a male gift & had his eye on some carved Buddhas. Having found a suitably handsome specimen, he automatically turned it over to look for a price, but not seeing the standard white sticker on the dark wood, he was just about to turn it back over when he realized that there was some carving on the 6” wide base. Not believing his eyes, he came over to me and said in a low whisper, “Hey…check this out.” There, indelibly etched upon the Enlightened One’s bottom, was an erotic scene that would make a sailor blush! [Strangely, this particular Buddha hadn’t the ubiquitous smiling visage either, but seemed instead a bit forlorn – either mourning the plight of humanity, or perhaps longing for the pleasures of misspent youth?] Of course the word spread quickly, and soon three of us had purchased what lovingly become known as the Boom Boom Buddha. Yes, there’s a story here: our first morning in Cambodia, two of the lads went out for an early walk and hadn’t even gone a block when someone came up and furtively enquired, “You want Lady Boom Boom?” (nudge nudge, wink wink).
#2: The vendors in the Old Market are hawkers as well, and the plaintive singsong invitation to “You buy my [whatever]?” was as constant as the buzzing of scooters on the street outside. Larry was standing in front of a hat stall when the inevitable enquiry was made, as was a Cambodian policeman. So L. quickly turns to the cop and says, “How much for your hat…$5?” pointing to the highly ornamented badged & brimmed item. The officer took a slight unbelieving step backward, and shook his head. Larry comes back with, “OK, $10?”. Wham! The hat is off the head and in Larry’s hand, and the palm outstretched. A done deal. (L. later boasts that if he had another 5 minutes, he would have had him down to his skivvies!)
But it gets better: the day before, we had received an intriguing proposition from none other than the 42tnd President of the United States who happened to be in town. His people had learned that an American ensemble was in Siem Reap for the Expo, and wondered if our gang would like to come over and meet Mr. Clinton and perhaps do a little playing as well. Our schedule wouldn’t permit, so we respectfully declined the offer. But back to the Market… a few moments after Larry had his new hat, the Prez’s motorcade came zooming by, and our newly decapped official quickly turned his back on the entourage, since he was probably there as security, and didn’t want anyone so see him on duty without his official chapeau.
Done a bit earlier than expected, a few of us escaped the sweltering heat in an airconditioned hotel lounge across the street from our appointed bus pickup, enjoying some liquid refreshment & comparing bargains. Lo & behold, as we left, it turns out that the real action was on the floor above us, where Jim & Paul were knocking back a few cold ones on a breezy river-view terrace, serenaded by Miles Davis and some charming barkeep banter.
Back to the hotel to figure out where to put all our new booty, and off to the spanking new Siem Reap airport for what was supposed to be a foodless flight. So we all tanked up on dinner (viva panini!), only to find that Vietnam Airlines had a lovely meal waiting for us only 10 minutes past take-off. Arriving in Hanoi 90 minutes later, the cultural & atmospheric shock were immediate. Suddenly, we were in a much more cosmopolitan setting, and the air was 20 degrees cooler. After a 45 minute ride into Hanoi, [which is really quite dark at night because the government has decided that there is no good reason to waste electricity…which is quite sensible, really], an amazing apparition suddenly comes into view. It’s the Hanoi Opera House, a blast from the Parisian past, and next to it our new home, the Hilton Hanoi Opera. But a moment later, all memories of Paris are erased as we step inside Little America.
I don’t know how many stars this hotel has garnered, but chances are you could count them on one hand and not have any fingers left over. Yes Dorothy, we ARE in Kansas once again, with a towering Teddy Bear Christmas tree in the 3 story atrium, and the balconies completely lined with hundreds more of the plush little ursine cuddlers. A saxophone croons in front of an amplified piano trio as we stagger in after a very, very long day. The big hand and the little hand are both pointing to the ceiling and, I kid you not, the band is playing the Monk classic “Round Midnight”. The rooms are well appointed by any standard, but after Cambodia, I’m sure we all felt that we had surely been dropped into the lap of luxury.
The last temple of the Cambodian part of the tour is 90 minutes away from the hotel, and we’re talking country roads here: not dirt & potholes, but very uneven surfaces, plenty of dust and enough bone jarring bouncing for the most avid bronco buster.
Banteay Srei Temple almost seems like a miniature temple, as it was peopled almost exclusively by Buddhist nuns, and the doorways rarely exceed 5’ in height. It is said that only the delicate hands of women would be capable of carving the amazing details found on most lintels, including one memorable ‘reflection’ scene in which sun appears to be eating the moon (an eclipse?). The color and quality of the sandstone in this part of the empire also sets this temple apart from the others, with its deep red hues familiar to visitors to the Grand Canyon, but with finer grit, hence amazing ability to hold artistic detail.
Another extraordinary treat is the music which bathes the site. What sounds at a distance like a traditional Khmer wedding band is anything but, for rounding the corner, one sees a shocking ensemble of misshapen bodies, dutifully bowing, plucking and banging their instruments at unexpected angles since most are missing limbs, eyes, or both. A hand drawn sign informs us that these are the Land Mine Musicians, whose playing is as joyful and expert as you would ever want to hear, but their heartbreaking circumstances are a visceral reminder that ancient scenes of death and destruction that decorate the temples of centuries past is still very much a part of the Cambodian present. One player deftly balances his instrument on the stump of one arm as he simultaneously holds and fingers the tiny flute with his remaining hand. Another, who smilingly sells the group’s homemade CD between numbers, also holds his instrument in his one remaining hand, a wide green leaf with a single fold placed on the inside of the lower lip, and exuding a beguiling wail that soars above even the two bowed tros, hammered dulcimer, trough marimba and mandolin that accompany him.Once back in the bouncy bus, our long ride home is punctuated by a visit to a roadside manufacturer and vendor of palm sugar candy. In front of most stilted houses along this road, one sees identically shaped silver metal cauldrons boiling atop earthen ovens. The liquid is juice collected nightly in foot-long bamboo tubes from the sugar palms that grow throughout the areas. Each morning, the nocturnal harvest is boiled down to a tasty blonde paste that resembles maple candy but tastes like buttered sugar cane when cooled and wrapped in folded banana leaves. Quite a few of us leave the roadside stand with sticky fingers, sweetened tongues, and a few more goodies to pack.
And pack we must, for tonight we head to the brand new airport at Siem Reap on the next leg of our journey to North Vietnam. But not before spending a few expensive hours wandering through the Old Market in search of last minute bargains, this being December season of giving, and the prices will never be better. How did a dirt cheap high-end North Face back pack end up in a dingy stall next to pig snouts and dried fish? Are these knock-offs? Not on your life: where do you think most of the Famous American label manufactured items that fill our shelves and closets are actually made? Read any of your labels lately? Chances are that a hefty percentage of everything you use, wear or buy was made within 200 miles of where we stand.
Hundreds of stalls offer gorgeous Cambodian silks woven into table cloths, scarves, neck ties, pillow cases and more, and the prices are outrageously low, prompting many of us to add a few more pounds to their luggage. Wooden cowbells attract the ear and eye, while the antique Chinese teacups seem to have little metal straws coming out of them. Oops! not teacups at all, but hash pipes – elegant little Oriental bongs that are displayed alongside highly ornamented carved tusks of all sizes that perform the same task, sans liquid. Many dollars exchange hands, though two purchases in particular have now attained legendary status:
#1: A group of us were helping Lynn find some ‘guy’ gifts, since most of the women on her shopping list were spoken for. Eric was also in the market for a male gift & had his eye on some carved Buddhas. Having found a suitably handsome specimen, he automatically turned it over to look for a price, but not seeing the standard white sticker on the dark wood, he was just about to turn it back over when he realized that there was some carving on the 6” wide base. Not believing his eyes, he came over to me and said in a low whisper, “Hey…check this out.” There, indelibly etched upon the Enlightened One’s bottom, was an erotic scene that would make a sailor blush! [Strangely, this particular Buddha hadn’t the ubiquitous smiling visage either, but seemed instead a bit forlorn – either mourning the plight of humanity, or perhaps longing for the pleasures of misspent youth?] Of course the word spread quickly, and soon three of us had purchased what lovingly become known as the Boom Boom Buddha. Yes, there’s a story here: our first morning in Cambodia, two of the lads went out for an early walk and hadn’t even gone a block when someone came up and furtively enquired, “You want Lady Boom Boom?” (nudge nudge, wink wink).
#2: The vendors in the Old Market are hawkers as well, and the plaintive singsong invitation to “You buy my [whatever]?” was as constant as the buzzing of scooters on the street outside. Larry was standing in front of a hat stall when the inevitable enquiry was made, as was a Cambodian policeman. So L. quickly turns to the cop and says, “How much for your hat…$5?” pointing to the highly ornamented badged & brimmed item. The officer took a slight unbelieving step backward, and shook his head. Larry comes back with, “OK, $10?”. Wham! The hat is off the head and in Larry’s hand, and the palm outstretched. A done deal. (L. later boasts that if he had another 5 minutes, he would have had him down to his skivvies!)But it gets better: the day before, we had received an intriguing proposition from none other than the 42tnd President of the United States who happened to be in town. His people had learned that an American ensemble was in Siem Reap for the Expo, and wondered if our gang would like to come over and meet Mr. Clinton and perhaps do a little playing as well. Our schedule wouldn’t permit, so we respectfully declined the offer. But back to the Market… a few moments after Larry had his new hat, the Prez’s motorcade came zooming by, and our newly decapped official quickly turned his back on the entourage, since he was probably there as security, and didn’t want anyone so see him on duty without his official chapeau.
Done a bit earlier than expected, a few of us escaped the sweltering heat in an airconditioned hotel lounge across the street from our appointed bus pickup, enjoying some liquid refreshment & comparing bargains. Lo & behold, as we left, it turns out that the real action was on the floor above us, where Jim & Paul were knocking back a few cold ones on a breezy river-view terrace, serenaded by Miles Davis and some charming barkeep banter.
Back to the hotel to figure out where to put all our new booty, and off to the spanking new Siem Reap airport for what was supposed to be a foodless flight. So we all tanked up on dinner (viva panini!), only to find that Vietnam Airlines had a lovely meal waiting for us only 10 minutes past take-off. Arriving in Hanoi 90 minutes later, the cultural & atmospheric shock were immediate. Suddenly, we were in a much more cosmopolitan setting, and the air was 20 degrees cooler. After a 45 minute ride into Hanoi, [which is really quite dark at night because the government has decided that there is no good reason to waste electricity…which is quite sensible, really], an amazing apparition suddenly comes into view. It’s the Hanoi Opera House, a blast from the Parisian past, and next to it our new home, the Hilton Hanoi Opera. But a moment later, all memories of Paris are erased as we step inside Little America.
I don’t know how many stars this hotel has garnered, but chances are you could count them on one hand and not have any fingers left over. Yes Dorothy, we ARE in Kansas once again, with a towering Teddy Bear Christmas tree in the 3 story atrium, and the balconies completely lined with hundreds more of the plush little ursine cuddlers. A saxophone croons in front of an amplified piano trio as we stagger in after a very, very long day. The big hand and the little hand are both pointing to the ceiling and, I kid you not, the band is playing the Monk classic “Round Midnight”. The rooms are well appointed by any standard, but after Cambodia, I’m sure we all felt that we had surely been dropped into the lap of luxury.
# posted by Southwest Chamber Music @ 6:53 PM 
Comments:
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quite find what I was looking for. I'm looking for
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a place where you can make some nice extra cash secret shopping.
I made over $900 last month having fun!
make extra money now
quite find what I was looking for. I'm looking for
different ways to earn money... I did find this though...
a place where you can make some nice extra cash secret shopping.
I made over $900 last month having fun!
make extra money now
We want the rest of the story!!! I can't begin to thank you for doing this blog. We followed your whole adventure, so I hope you know it was greatly appreciated--I sent the link to friends who followed it too--and made very positive comments on your writing style, as well as the adventures you had. It was really a gift that you did this--there are still 4 days left to this story...will you post them too??? We hope so! --Kathy and Rick Wilson
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