Angkor Wat?

Angkok Wat!!! It’s beautiful, but as soon as we stepped off our rickshaw an army souvenir selling kids attacked. You buy! You my friend. You buy my flute. My Pen. My whatever.

RUN!!!!!

Everybody’s gotta make a living though, right?



The place is gorgeous, massive trees grow out the top of walls with their roots like tentacles crushing bricks while holding them together at the same time. I suspect every western bloke who’s ever been here has fancied himself as a bit like Indiana Jones, I did. Because everyone wants get away from the crowds to explore the temples as though they were the first person to ever stumble across it in eons.

At the Jungle temple, you can easily pull off this trick of difficult psychological self delusion because in the reality is the place is in ruins with jungle growing all over it and you could be the first. This is also the temple where Angelina Jollie strutted her stuff in Tomb Raider, so maybe there’s ladies out there thinking they’re a big breasted sexy lady running around in lycra. I haven’t ask Sandy about this yet but as I said it take a bit of psychological self delusion.

So we’re in the Jungle temple, ruins and trees have fused together and I’ve lost Sandy and Mook, I’d like to say they took a wrong turn but I’m starting to think it was me. I’m walking into a dark tunnel and the difference in temperature hits you as you step down out of the sun into the ruined catacombs. Its cool in here and your suddenly aware of how wet you are from sweat. It’s nice.

As I stumble over bricks and roots, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the sudden lack of light, I start wishing I had a whip, because Harrison Ford looked so cool with one and it’d add the perfect touch to my fantasy and this is better than the movies. This is real. There’s ancient inscription on the walls, which you expect would say something very deep and meaningful, but then with my linguistic expertise it could also translate to ‘Billy wants to give it to Sally’

I stumble on. Up ahead candle light is flashing yellow light and shadows around a dark chamber. There’s chanting too.

C’mon Mr Indie.

A Buddhist nun is praying before an ancient statue. Her voice is soft and the candle light illuminates her and the old stone of Buddha’s head. This is real. This is my movie. She smiles at me, sensing me watching. I smile back.

‘You want good luck?’ She offers me an incense stick. I notice by her feet a Tupperware container containing money.

‘Um…. How much?’

‘Just $2.’ (That’s US currency)
\
‘Um…. No thanks’ I repeat the same in Khemer backing away.

Her face gets darker. ‘But Good Luck for You!!!’ She thrusts the stick at me.

‘No.’

You can see her face transforming from Zen granny to dark demon. I’m in a hole with her. I wanna get out. She starts swearing, or what I assume is swearing in her language. My superior linguistic skills tell me she’s saying something like, ‘Curse, hiss, Die Cunt, bastard, asshole.’

I run back into the light and find Sandy and Mook.

You can’t blame the old bitty though because everybody’s gotta make a living though, right?

The Temples are amazing. The experience is definitely worth it. And its lets you live out your fantasies (not the naughty ones) even if it is covered by a zillion beggars, monks (who also want you money for their English lessons) and tour groups, but I’m loving because I’m a tourist there’s nothing better than being a backpacker tourist because it’s a very nice way to be homeless and unemployed.

Tomorrow we’re making the documentary.

Bus Rides and Taxis (Siem Reap)

Siem Reap, eh? This is the town where everyone who comes to Cambodia comes here. It's the gateway town to Angkor Wat and it's a dust bowl. Most locals have taken to wearing a surgical face mask. it's a weird thing to see, all these guys driving rickshaws and motorbikes are wearing them. They look like they've escaped from a horror movie. Though i haven't seen much of the town yet.

But I love Asia, there's no other place like it. You can do anything. Say anything. Drink anything. Buy anything. And on the bus they play karaoke music the whole time. Most of the time this music sucks.

But i tell you, if i could read Cambodian it'd be the best. For six hours while no one sung, we listened to that machine and i dreamed of fulfilling my dreams of not only being a cabaret singer but doing it while travelling. I tell you, me and Sandy up there, on that aisle doing our duets, we could've rocked it rocked the bus in a whole new style. Though it would've been loads better if the music was in English because while i might sound like a cultural fool, i think Cambodian pop sucks! They're got lovely countryside though.

So as the bus is pulling into our final stop at Siem Reap, hundreds of young lads as running along side of the bus as we slowed. Dust is everywhere. Surgical masked teenagers are slapping our windows waving at us. Friendly, you might think. It might almost be an Indiana Jones scene, except these guys are worse than those crazy Indians that chased Harrison Ford down to the river with their blow guns and spears. These guys are taxi drivers, moto drivers, rickshaw drivers, and whatever you wanna call them, they're calling for you.

So stepping down the steps of the bus there's hundreds of these lads, yelling for attention. They're all holding up signs and screaming, their signs read ''the best guesthouse,'' ''The greatest guesthouse,'' or ''The most superlative guesthouse.'' and They're screaming, 'Hey! Come my Guesthouse!" or "Hey, Mr free ride for you!'' all while they're trying smile, because they don't wanna appear rude, and shoving and pushing each other to get to the front row. Its like stepping down into flock of giant turkeys, all squabbling and hungry. They want your money.

I feel like a rock star!

They're pulling and grabbing. I'm lucky because I've got a loud booming voice. "Get out of my way!'' i yell

The westerner has spoken.

They stop. Look.

For a second.

Then they're pulling and grabbing. ''Where you go mister?' Come my guesthouse. cheap Cheap. good Deal. You smoke? We went to a place Mook knew and its tops. Tomorrow we'll go see Angkor Wat.

the kids

Pics should be up!

Welcome to Cambodia!!!

We're in Sihanoukville a beautful beach paradise. It's the middle of the night and the sweat from my body has made a small pool in my mattress, the sliding on this has woken me up. The fan has stopped working.

In this heat, in the tropics, you gotta have a fan.

I don't care if saying this makes me sound like an obnoixious westerner that can't handle the heat, but I need a fan.

I checked it again. Not working. I checked the lights. No power.

I'm sweating worse than a pig on a spit. Our room is made up of a thatch roof and terracotta tiles, during the day it heats up, and now at night its still hot from the day and without a fan its like living an indian tandori oven.

'It's fucking hot!' i say, rather brillantly to Sandy.
She groans and rolls over.
'Powers out.'I pull on my shorts. ''I'll check with someone.''

Outside, you can the waves a rolling with soft spashes onto the shore and in the moonlight you can make them out . The bar of our guesthouse which open onto the beach is empty, it must be close to four in the morning. Out here there are no fans and its still hot. Behind the bar sleeping on the floor, i guess his job is to protect it from people raiding it at night as well as being the bar tender. He wakes hearing me stumble around in the semi dark.

''No power,'' i say as he stands, rubs his eyes and nods.
''Yes, the lines often go down.' He smiles at me sympatheticly. 'Welcome to Cambodia.

I climb back into bed, still sweating but satisfied. I can handle no fan for a while.

Hey from Cambodia

So we've arrived in Cambodia, well two days ago, and let me tell you the heat here is insane!

At the airport we had a little hairy canary excursion. Mum, don't worry we're alright. Its all a learning experience, isn't it?

I guess you could say we had a little lesson into the way things actually work in this country. I recall Dad telling me about similar thing happening to him when one he was on one of his business trips to Indonesia; he had slip a little cheese to some important looking officials who were happy to oblige. This isn't Indonesia though, and guess what I should've done was more research, and listen to Sandy.

In Thailand she said, 'We should get some money changed into US currency before we go.(everything in Cambodia is in US, strange, but true).
I said, 'It'll be cool, we'll just get it changed at the airport.' (The ATM machines in Cambodia even give out US bucks)

So we just landed and we were going to get our visas on arrival. Visa cost $25 US. Sandy eyeballs me. There's no ATM machines. 'It'll be cool.' I say, pretending to be tranquil lake, inside I'm panic mountain.
We've got no US cash, no Cambodian cash, just under a thousand in Thai and a little Aussie cash.
'Do you take credit?' i ask the guy at the visa desk, as i hand him our forms.
'No cash only. Pay the cashier.' He points at another man in uniform.

As i step away I say to Sandy, 'I'll just go see if i can get some money upstairs where transfer passengers are going.'
I run fast, too fast for someone who's meant to be a tranquil lake.

Of course the transfer area is blocked and when i come back, Sandy is looking worried. I'm looking worried, But you know things are really going badly when you've made your lovely wife worried. It's something I do, but never intentionally and i always hate it when i do.

'Mr Norton.' The cashier is calling. 'your visa is ready.'
'It'll be cool.' I smile at Sandy. We go up to the counter, and it's like we've been caught by our primary school teacher as we're smoking and Mr Robinson is saying 'come here.' What i mean is the walk to the cashier is killer.
'We don't have any US cash.' I say in almost a whisper.
'Thai Baht?' He asks.
'Um....' I show him our Thai money.
'You need two thousand.'
'Do you take Australian money?'
He looks at me like I've farted.
'We've got $40 Aussie bucks and some Thai money.' Sandy and quickly make a small pile of notes on the counter. I think the size of it got him. 'Okay.' He says, slides the visas to us with a wink and takes the cash, we didn't look back until we were safely away. Then we giggled like idiots. I'd happily place a bet that the Cambodian government didn't get those $40 Aussie bucks. Even if it did, I'm sure he got a nice tip.

So yeah we made if only a few hitches. Outside the airport we meet Mook. What good man to meet us there, after all we didn't have any cash.

But It's amazing to meet up with friends in another country it blows your mind away. Not for the reasons you'd think it would though, like you're both in a strange country together and that weird, no it's so great because suddenly everything seems so natural and easy like you're with each other at home but now you're in a strange country. Everything is cool but you might as well be on another planet together. That blows your mind away.

I took the advice from Marie and got in contact with the people she recommended who run a water filter programme and we've started shooting a short doco about their charity.

Anyway, all is good we're gonna hit the $2.50 bottles of Khemer whiskey tonight.

Brant Bjork Interview

I talk to Rock stoner legend, Brant Bjork from Fu-Man-Chu and Kyuss talks for In The RAW TV.

What the hell is wrong with our legal system?

Powder Finger’s new song ‘Black Tears,’ which is due to be released next month, is due to go up in a legal battle. The 2^nd verse of the song supposedly refers to a racial incident which occurred between a member or members Palm Island Police and the local Aboriginal residents. Particularly, it supposedly refers one copper, one Officer Chris Hurley, who going up in court for the assault and manslaughter of Mulrunji Doomadgee who died while in his custody.

This death started a riot on the island.

The cop being charged is also the one making the complaint.


Photo ABC TV

What the hell is wrong with our legal system? Why shouldn’t an artist be allowed to comment on society? The police in this country (and loads of others countries) have a long history of abusing their power while musicians should have a right to comment on it and have done so in the past. Isn’t Waltzing Matilda commenting on a “class” incident that “supposedly” occurred between three coppers and a swagman?

If you can now be censored or worse sued for singing about something that is messed up then the world has gone crazy.

What do you think? What songs do you know that comment on the police and society?

Read more about it here (SMH)