BOKOR MOUNTAIN, KOMPOT, CAMBODIA
Today is my last day here.
The NGO we worked with shuffled the schedule and suddenly our morning has opened up for us, and so the guys decide to take me to Bokor Mountain National Park. This is a wonderful mountain that houses some old French colonial buildings at the top (the West really liked building things in secluded places) as well as some very old Buddhist temple. Not only that, naturally it provides also a very unique landscape. I find out on the way up that the Cambodian government, despite it being Cambodian land, had sold it to a rich business owner in Vietnam. "Corruption" T called it, "You see, we live in a corrupt country." I now realize the importance and why they have to understand Thai and Viet politics if they want to understand the future of the Cambodian people and government.
At the entrance A tells us that the two guys, W and T, need to buy some bananas at the bottom to give the offering to Buddha as they get to the top. So, we buy a small bundle of bananas and some joss sticks to take up on the ride with us. The way up is stunning. It passes by so quickly. We go from the warm, sunny foot of the mountain into the high clouds as we reach the summit. The fog sets in and mystifies the land, concealing it from sight. When we reach the top, we see the large Buddha statue structure, and the boys go in and pray to the Buddha.
"A" has worked quite often with D in the past for his plant studies, as I have mentioned, and so I'm always impressed by how A is looking out for plants. I recall one time in the provinces A stopped the car, and him and D stepped out to go look for a certain plant that would help with impotence. Another time, while driving, A would point out that to our right, there is a special plant used for medicinal healing. At a health center, A picked a branch of a plant off and kept it for D later when he joined us, and passed it off to him later to show him, "Look, I found this plant." Today was no different, I liked how in touch these guys were with the landscape. What would otherwise be a blend of foliage to me, they thought of as a diverse garden with many different species. After the Buddha, T shows me a picture of a pitcher plant and him and A discuss about where to find these plants while on Bokor mountain. And so, when they find a pullover stop, A stops the car, and all of us jump out in search of this pitcher flower. We end up in the "100 rice fields" area which is a small stone formation area in a specific part of Bokor mountain. The rocks are scattered among tall grass that is short enough to peer over. It feels like we're at a beach, with shallow puddles from the rain on top of the rocks and an ambient temperature that has cooled due to our altitude. We're hopping across the puddles looking for a pitcher plant, as if skipping through tide pools in search of biodiversity. Eventually, true to their word, we find it tucked under some rocks. We then find another, and then another. With each step of our feet in the puddles, we get a new vantage point of the quiet landscape of the 100 rice fields that spans for acres across Bokor mountain. It's hard to believe just 10 minutes ago we were in a forest. Now, we were on a plateau. Then, we bunch back into the car.
Driving further along, we see the old French colonial buildings. There's an eeriness to them now, almost a haunted quality, since they've been abandoned for quite some time. All of the original structures still stand, though, with little impediment and so you can climb around these old structures and see what it looked like from the inside. There was also an old church up there, but my favorite was the old casino and hotel. Apparently, as the Khmer Rouge was crushed by the Vietnamese army during the last days of the war, Bokor Hill Station - the collective word for these buildings - was the last stronghold. The buildings have just been left there to stand. What is being built there now is a new casino, and new housing estates. It would seem that there is now money coming into Cambodia and this investment is re-invigorating the "summer getaway" image that Bokor Hill Staiton was initially known for. Probably Chinese money..
We go down from the mountain and I take a last few pictures. We then go eat lunch at the place where I was first dropped off back on the 5th of December. I remembered the place but now it all looked so different to me since I had the experience of traveling through the southern parts of this beautiful country. I take my last bites of Cambodian food and say my goodbyes. I shake A's hand and thank him for all his tough work while driving. He cups the back of my right hand with his left and bows in thanks. With my good friends T and W, I also shake their hand and smile. T says the time, two weeks, has passed by very quickly and that he hopes I will come back again soon. "I'm still discovering it all, too. Sometimes I will leave Phnom Penh city and then take my motorbike and a small backpack with me and then travel through the countryside. I always feel refreshed after a trip to the countryside. It gives me perspective and focus. There's still much more to show you!"
W still doesn't say a word to me, but just smiles and maintains eye contact. In my broken Khmer I tell him thank you and say that it has been very fun for me to travel with all three of them in the past two weeks. I hope that they will remember me as I forever remember them and all of the great stories and experiences they've shared to me. There are stories and then there are experiences. I wish I could share the feelings driving through the countryside but this is difficult and arcane, often even to myself. With this web-diary though, I hope to share with you, the reader, a small glimpse into the beautiful cultural and natural aspects to this country. I'm also hoping to memorialize all of my time here so that I can always treasure this experience for the years to come. The taxi pulls in, and I jump on. It's the same driver. "Bang, cheam reap suor! (Sir, hello)" It's the only line of Khmer I've really mastered. And he drives off. And I wave.
That day I rode the boat, D was sitting behind me, in between me and the driver. I turned around and saw him stand up while on the narrow, propelled canoe. A fearless man with a sense of adventure and identity. That strong desire to be a part of something that's close to his heart. He just looked out into the floodplains, gaze fixed on the horizon, as we passed lily fields and other farmers who were living among the pools of water. As we neared the shore he sat down due to the slowing of the boat, and the minor turbulence caused by being in the wake of boats departing the dock. He taps me on the shoulder. "You know, Jason, I have to say this time I am glad to be a data collector. I have seen many different parts of my country, and considered myself to be very well traveled, but even this is a new experience. But when I am standing on top of the boat and looking out into the beauty of the landscape I can say," He pauses, then proceeds emphatically, "" I'm proud to say this is my country, I'm proud to say I'm Cambodian. I'm proud of my people."
"I'm Khmer!!"
I'll never forget the team.