7:30 seems very early to us right now, and that was only the time we had to leave. As the alarm went off at 6 I wished we’d had more time to sleep, but we needed to be up. We just about managed to scrape in breakfast before we jumped on the coach and headed for the Chu Chi tunnels.
It was around an hour or so drive to the tunnels, and we were back with our young guide Dang today. On arrival at the tunnels Rafa bought our tickets for us and we made our way to the first part of the tour, a 10 minute video of the Chu Chi folks using the tunnels and a quick run through of the history. Once the video was over Dang talked us through a mock up of the tunnels beside the tv screen and explained that there were three levels, the first of which was built prior to the American invasion. They were dug using custom made picks and dirt was carried away in handmade baskets. Once the Americans came they were driven out of their overground villages and so went completely underground, digging a further two levels of tunnels. There were meeting rooms, sleeping rooms, kitchen rooms, a whole host of them. All in all the tunnels extend for over 200km, all dug by hand. Once the Americans came the Chu Chi people only moved above ground at night, silently setting traps for the Americans and carrying dirt to places like rice fields or rubber plantations where it would not be noticed.
The traps were really quite neat. As they did not have access to guns the Chu Chi used booby trap style traps, swinging doors covered in leaves where the victim would fall onto sharpened bamboo below, foot traps of various methods used to impale the legs of the victims. There were also traps set in the tunnels themselves in case they were compromised. However, the tunnels were built just about big enough for the average Vietnamese person, and the Americans, despite knowing where many of the tunnel entrances were were just too fat to get into them.
Another way the tunnels were used was to give the Americans the impression that they were fighting far greater numbers than they were, as they would be ambushed from one side before their attackers would scuttle along the tunnels and ambush them from another, with the aericans thinking that there were people on both sides. Very smart.
To avoid detection cookig was only done at night, and everyone wore rubber sandals to avoid leaving trails and making noise. Vents for kitchens also carried the smoke sometimes miles away to help avoid suspiscion, and the area around the vent exit was dampened and covered in leaves to give the impression that the smoke was just mist. Air holes, to avoid the noses of dogs brought in to help detect the presence of Chu Chi people, were smeared with chilli and lime to throw the four legged enemy off the scent.
One little stretch of tunnels has been made big enough for us fat westerners to climb through, so we had a little scuttle and got a feeling for how things were. We also hopped through from one of the meeting rooms to a kitchen room via a tunnel, where I was happy to see the bat that had taken up residence fly in the same direction as we were and not back over our heads. Steven, shit scared of spiders, was a little freaked out by an eight-legged friend he met whilst crawling behind me.
Once our tunnel adventure was over we checked out of the Chu Chi tunnels exhibition area and got back on the bus, our guide Dang coming with us all the way to the Cambodian border, presumably as he needed the bus to take him back. An hour later we were there, and with our bags loaded onto a trolley (pulled by a little chap, not a machine) we said goodbye to Dang and our driver and began our border crossing.
It’s the first border crossing I’ve ever done on foot, not counting our little trips to Calais, which in any case usually involve some ferrying about on a terminal bus. This was literally being dropped off a few hundred yards from the border control, walking up to the offices, getting through immigration, then, security, then visa check, then health check, and finally through to the other side. There is a lot of wasted time during the crossing as you fill in one form, get up, go through a check, fill in another, go through a check, fill in another, and so on. I’m not quite sure why they can’t just give you a bundle of forms (which mostly ask the same questions) and then let you stroll through unimpeded. At the health check station those of us unfortunate to cough have a temperature reader thingy pointed at our heads and zapped. The Cambodian official tries to convince Rafaele that he needs to pay for something but he’s wise to the game and we get through without having to bribe anyone. Although reasonably quick, all in all I think the crossing experience takes a fair while longer than it needs to. No doubt the Cambodians will take my opinions on board.
Lunch today was at a road side place just past the border crossing which looked, quite frankly, shit. No-one really fancies much of what we see on the rather grim looking menu, but somehow a common concensus on the chicken noodle soup arrives and so I add another to the list. Actually it’s not that bad really, though I could have quite happily skipped that meal.
After lunch we have another couple of hours or so on the bus before we reach the hotel. What strikes me as we enter Cambodia and get closer and closer to Phnom Penh is that it is so much dirtier than anywhere we’ve been so far, there is tons of litter everywhere. Then, as we stop for a ferry crossing to get across a river, the poverty. People of all ages immediately bombard the bus to beg for money, tapping on the windows. Some are trying to sell postcards, bangles and other crap no-one really wants whilst some just have their hands out. It’s a horrible experience, the desperation is tough to bear.
On the journey Rafa gives a bit of a history lesson on Cambodia, and eventually I think most of us end up nodding off. In between naps I am again plugging the diary deficit. It is quite a lot of effort to keep this going, but I’ve sort of committed to it now, and I’ve decided that I actually quite like writing for fun. I think when I get home I’ll crack out a hilarious Hollywood blockbuster.
We are again tremendously spoiled with our hotel, though there is no special treatment this time. As we’re arriving late we have about an hour and a half to freshen up before going to dinner. Tonight’s dinner is quite a special affair as we are to be eating at the house of a local Cambodian guide that the intrepid folks have gotten to know through their work in the area. Mr Rarn lives in a house in a more out of centre part of town with his wife and three daughters, and lives with two other families, a total of around 30 people.
Cambodian tradition says that when a couple marry they move in with the parents of the woman, so the other families in the house are essentially Mr Rarn’s in-laws. The family introduce themselves, but they do not eat with us. It turns out we are actually eating in one ofthe rooms where people sleep, and we’re all sat on the floor. For tonight’s dinner we have teamed upcwith another intrepid group as Mr Rarn had already agreed for them to come along, and as he doesn’t invite people every day this was our only opportunity whilst in Phnom Penh.
The food is prepared by the family and is a huge and very tasty spread of Cambodian dishes, including a cracking curry. There’s also spring rolls, a green salad, spare ribs, noodle dishes and of course rice. There is far too much for everyone to eat and so there is a lot left over for which I feel quite guilty for. I wod have loved to have eaten more because it was fantastic, but I just couldn’t squeeze it in.
For desert there is a rather unusual dish served up first – deep fried tarantulas. Whilst these have been marinaded in honey and lime I still don’t fancy a go, and am glad when the pineapple slices arrive as an alternative. One or two of the other group have a go, some try a leg, Rafa and the other tour leader Matt show us how it’s done too, but the main thing I’ll remember is the look of absolute brown knickers terror and disgust that occupied spider hating Steven’s face when the spiders were served up.
We learn that Mr Rarn runs an English class for the people who live near him, but sadly for us because it’s Sunday the class does not run, it would have been nice to be able to help out. He does this just to help out the children nearby because though education is free, English classes are not. For many people in South East Asia learning to speak English is a way to a better life. We begin to get the impression that Mr Rarn is a very good man, and we later find out that he supports the education of all his nieces and nephews that live with him too.
Once dinner is over the family clean up and I play empty tin can skittles with the youngest of Mr Rarn’s children. Shortly afterwards we let the family have some peace and get ready for bed, and head off to Raf’s recommended pub where the other group are also congregated, thanking everyone before we leave.
The pub is quite lively but this is mainly due to the folks from the othe group, larger than ours, that have occupied the pool table area. Not much room for us round there, we situate ourselves down by the bar where there is a tv showing a live premier league game. Once we have our drinks it’s not long before Rafa decides he and I should play pool, so we end up playing doubles against a pair from the other group. This pool table is more like the same width as the ones at hone but is longer, and the balls are still bigger. We win (of course) though I actually play rubbish, and I retake my seat.
A little while later the chap from the bar comes round asking if anyone wants to play killer, for a free “bucket” which is a gravy jug sized, err, jug, of cocktail. I’m not a huge fan of killer normally but I thought I’d have a go, and about 45 minutes later I’m drinking my free cocktail. I rock. A further two rounds of killer ensue, and whilst the other group leader Matt wins the second (with me in the last 3) I clinch the last too. No prizes after the first game though, so sussed.
Overall the night is a good one, a great dinner with the lovely Mr Rarn and a few games of pool after. As the night ends we climb in to our tuk tuks which have been waiting for us for a couple of hours, and head to bed.