Land of the Lost Stick

That's what the name Battambang (pronounced Bat-dam-bong) really means. It comes from an ancient legend about a peasant who finds a stick which seems to have magic powers, and he uses it, greedily and selfishly, to overthrow and then kill the King. The newly self-appointed, and unpopular King is later met in battle by the dead King's son, the Prince, who has been given a magic, flying white stallion by a religious hermit (yeah I know, but then, the marijuana over here is said to be amongst the best in the world...!). Anyway, In the battle, in which the Prince is victorious and rightfully returned to the throne, the greedy peasant loses his stick, but manages to escape and is never seen again. Bizarrely enough (as if it isn't already bizarre enough), the mythical villain later becomes affectionately adopted by the locals as Ta Dambong (Grandfather Stick), and a gynormous statue of him now graces one of the main roundabouts on the way into the town, around the bottom of which families will often come to leave Ta Dambong their 'offerings'. On the day we were there, a family were offering two whole roasted pigs, a fruit and vegetable salad large enough to feed half the town, and, of course, several of the inevitable conical marigold-covered flower arrangements.

Bat-Dambong

Pork Scratchings, Anyone?

Battambang is a pleasant enough city today, with charming French colonial architecture and a relaxed, convivial atmosphere in the markets, restaurants and bars around town. The wide riverfront promenade on the West bank, rather like that in Phnom Penh, is attractively paved and planted, and there are several hill-top temples in the lush countryside surrounding the city. (We climbed around 650 steps in total, at Wat Banan and Phnom Sampeou, on our tuk-tuk tour.) When we say 'hill-top', though, it's worth bearing in mind that, topographically-speaking, Battambang province is the Netherlands of Cambodia, with a 'hill' often being little more than a mound, and a 'mountain', it's said locally, being any piece of land not under water after a downpour!

French Governor's Residence, 1907

Wat Banan

Battambang is a City which DOES do things by halves, though. Again like Phnom Penh, the road layout is a grid system, with north-south streets being numbered and east-west streets being named. The first north-south street to the West of the river is, not surprisingly, Street 1. But then you have Street 1-and-a-half, Street 2, and Street 2-a-half. There's absolutely no sign that these 'and-a-half' streets are in-fills, in that they seem to be just as old as their neighbouring streets, and these are the only two such logical but also nonsensical examples: all the others are whole numbers.

On our first evening here, we strolled along the riverfront, watching several sessions of outdoor aerobics or judo classes along the promenade, as well as numerous family groups playing with their children. On our second day, our tuk-tuk driver, Mr Nicky, took us on a tour of the surrounding countryside, which took in two of the hill-top Wats, Bannan and Ek Phnom (the word phnom, incidentally, itself means hill). As last year, in every little rural village we tuk-tukked through, all the children would come running out of their bamboo-and-rattan stilt-houses, beaming and waving, and calling out 'he-llo' and 'bye-bye', laughing and waving until we were out of sight.

But by far the BEST part of our tour was a trip on the local Bamboo Train, known as 'The Norrie'. The Norrie is a crude assembly of bamboo/wood platform, with wooden struts resting on the axles of salvaged ralway rolling stock wheels - or even old battle tank wheels - with an engine at the back with a fan-belt attached to a flywheel on the axle. The sense of speed, no doubt heightened by the low centre of gravity - the platform, on which we sat cross-legged, is only eighteen inches above the incredibly warped track - is exhilaratingly frightening. (Apparently, the 6hp engines get up to 30km per hour.) And the noise from the metal wheels is ear-splitting. Forget trying to have a conversation, or the idea of a gentle click-clack noise you might remember of trains of old: this is more like the noise of an industrial circular saw beside your ear, and a great clunk-clunk every time you go over a 'join' (often with gaps of well over an inch) in the rails. The bamboo train runs on a single-track railway, so, whenever a 'down' train meets an 'up' train, the protocol is that the lighter laden Norrie gives way to the heavier one. In our case, which happened four or five times on our 12km journey, the driver of the lighter Norrie dismantles the bamboo platform, removes the axles from the track and places it on the bank while the heavier Norrie goes past. At this point, the dismantled Norrie is put back together again, returned to the track, and continues its journey! A really great experience - and one which may well soon be a thing of the past, as an Australan company has now been given a 30-year lease to build and run a new national rail network on which the trains will be running at speeds of around 80k per hour - no match at all for these lovely little creatures.

All Aboard!

On our return from the tuk-tuk trip, we stopped by the roadside, along with dozens of others, to wait for dusk. In the hillside in front of us was a huge cave and, as the sun went down, suddenly the cave spewed forth the start of a truly massive plume of bats, streaming out over surrounding flat countryside for their early evening feast of insects. There must have been millions and millions of bats, as this vast plume of bats (flying in tight formation rather like starlings coming home to roost over Brighton pier), continued to spew out for at least the 20 minutes that we stayed put, and was still continuing as we disappeared into the sunset back to the city. A fantastic sight!

Bats!

Yesterday evening, we went to a truly breath-taking performance at a local multi-arts arts centre for disadvantaged children, known as 'The Circus'. Yes, it was in a 'big top', but it was basically a display by some phenomenally talented (and incredibly strong!) teenage gymnasts and jugglers, who put on some stunning, occasionally comical, sometimes heart-stopping, visually colourful gymnastic/balletic acts and 'plays'. This multi-arts centre, called Phare Ponlue Selpak (Fire, Life, Art), was founded in 1994 by returning refugees from the Khmer Rouge era, in an area where families were living in extreme poverty. It focused on social and educational activities such as art, music and theatre, involving whole families as well as children who had been abandoned or orphaned. It started as a physical education class, including martial arts and gymnastics, and attracted around 30 children to its residential educational centre. Today over 130 are in residence, whose psycho-social needs are assessed and, hopefully at least partly met, through arts and culture.   )The organistion also provides free education to a further 1,300 children, funded by donations and fund-raising. Some performances from the circus are available on YouTube - search for Phareps, or go to their website: www.phareps.org. to see some images.   I'm sure you'll be amazed and delighted if you find them on-line - and a few of them are travelling to London next July for a show in the UK.

Today is our last full day in Battambang. Tomorrow, we take the bus to Siem Reap, before going on to Takeo via Phnom Penh. Bye for now.