10 August 2002

3. - 10 AUG: Angkor, Majestic Ruins and Tragic History

The mid-afternoon squall hit with but a few minutes’ warning. I was in the middle of a large courtyard at Ta Prom, negotiating my way amidst ancient crumbling stone walls and overgrown roots. The monsoon rain was thick, determined, unforgiving and very noisy, almost to the point of being overwhelming. The water level on the ground immediately began to rise (the ancient Khmer draining system either was wanting or was clogged up, and modern Khmer had not done anything about it yet) and after a half hour or so the awsome courtyard was transformed into a murky pond. Local guides waded across, ankle-deep in the murky water, looking for their clients who had sought shelter in those structures which still stand in defiance of centuries of assaults by both nature and man. As the rain pours from above my roofless temple tower I stood with a few others under the entrance vault; the walls were so thick that even without a roof I could keep dry if I was careful to keep my balance on the threshold. Inside the tower, a weird echo transformed our multilingual chatter in a true Babel...

09 August 2002

2. - 9 AUG: Enter Indochina, a little corruption and massage

After an uneventful flight, a tropical Summer night welcomed us at the airport of Siem Reap (pronounced Seem Reep), the modern city which rises next to the ruins of ancient Angkor – which means "the Capital" in Khmer, and was indeed the capital of the Khmer Empire from the 9th century to 1431, when the Emperors moved to Phnom Penh’s region. The air was hot, very hot, completely still, and invasively sticky under my shirt. Pearls of sweat began to form on my forearms as I descended the plane's ladder, before I even had a chance to touch the Cambodian soil. The few uncertain floodlights which punctuated our solitary airplane's parking area cast an eerie spell over the tarmac. After a short walk, we were directed into the arrivals building. At passport control, two lines formed under a battery of lazy fans which churned the air from the ceiling above: first we lined up to have our passports checked, then again to get a visa. Funny, usually you get a visa first and then have your passport checked and stamped, but never mind.

08 August 2002

1. - 8 AUG: In the air over Asia, beginning of trip to Cambodia and laos, along the Mekong river

Bangkok is far and away the biggest hub for all South East Asia travel. I flew into the Thai capital on a Swiss Airlines plane from Zurich. I have flown with them many times, but never had they been so corteous as on this flight; it must be their fear that, after Swissair's bankruptcy, the face-lifted SWISS airline (same planes, same crews) is their last chance to survive. Yet, the plane was old and noisy and I was not sure about the future of this airline…

07 August 2002

Itinerary of trip to Cambodia and Laos, along the Mekong, 8-30 August 2002


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A journey to Cambodia and Laos, along the Mekong, 8-30 August 2002

Click on an Itinerary or a date to go to the post for that day
Day
Date
Itinerary
Night
Km
hrs
1
In the air
0
0
2
Siem Reap
0
0
3
Siem Reap
20
1
4
Siem Reap
50
2
5
Phnom Penh
270
6
6
Phnom Penh
50
3
7
Sambok
150
6
8
Stung Treng
130
5
9
Muang Khong
35
2
10
Pakse
130
2
11
Vientiane
0
0
12
Luang Prabang
0
0
13
Luang Prabang
0
0
14
Luang Prabang
0
0
15
Nong Kiaw (Muang Ngoy)
130
8
16
Muang Khua
70
6
17
Udom Xai
135
5
18
Muang Sing
210
7
19
Muang Sing
trek
8
20
Luang Namtha
70
3
21
Luang Prabang
250
7
22
Bangkok
0
0
23
Bangkok
0
0


TOTAL

1,700
71

MAP of Cambodia

 

18 July 2002

Book Review: River's Tale, A year on the Mekong (2003, by Edward A. Gargan, *****

Synopsis

From windswept plateaus to the South China Sea, the Mekong flows for three thousand miles, snaking its way through Southeast Asia. Long fascinated with this part of the world, former New York Times correspondent Edward Gargan embarked on an ambitious exploration of the Mekong and those living within its watershed. The River’s Tale is a rare and profound book that delivers more than a correspondent’s account of a place. It is a seminal examination of the Mekong and its people, a testament to the their struggles, their defeats and their victories.

15 July 2002

Book Review: River of Time, by Jon Swain, *****

Synopsis

Between 1970 and 1975 Jon Swain, the English journalist portrayed in David Puttnam's film, "The Killing Fields", lived in the lands of the Mekong river. This is his account of those years, and the way in which the tumultuous events affected his perceptions of life and death as Europe never could. He also describes the beauty of the Mekong landscape - the villages along its banks, surrounded by mangoes, bananas and coconuts, and the exquisite women, the odours of opium, and the region's other face - that of violence and corruption.

He was in Phnom Penh just before the fall of the city to the Khmer Rouge in April 1975. He was captured and was going to be executed. His life was saved by Dith Pran, the New York Times interpreter, a story told by the film The Killing Fields. In Indo-China Swain formed a passionate love affair with a French-Vietnamese girl. The demands of a war correspondent ran roughshod over his personal life and the relationship ended.

04 July 2002

Book Review: Extra Virgin (2001), by Annie Hawes, *****

Synopsis

A small stone house deep among the olive groves of Liguria, going for the price of a dodgy second-hand car. Annie Hawes and her sister, on the spot by chance, have no plans whatsoever to move to the Italian Riviera but find naturally that it's an offer they can't refuse. The laugh is on the Foreign Females who discover that here amongst the hardcore olive farming folk their incompetence is positively alarming. Not to worry: the thrifty villagers of Diano San Pietro are on the case, and soon plying the Pallid Sisters with advice, ridicule, tall tales and copious hillside refreshments ...


01 May 2002

Book Review: On the Shores of Eternity: Poems from Tagore on Immortality and Beyond, *****

Synopsis
To realize that death is an illusion, you either have to be very sophisticated or very simple. Tagore was both. I am awed by his use of language, pure crystals of wise innocence. Every word is personal, every word is universal. Those who met Tagore during his eighty years described him as one of the greatest souls of our age; Einstein considered him a sage. From what we learn in these poems, he certainly lived his own words. He kissed the infinite, he was not afraid to lose everything. And in this book, he allows us to approach death not with dusty words but with a silence that washes the soul. (From the Introduction by Deepak Chopra)

02 April 2002

Recensione: La rabbia e l'orgoglio (2001) di Oriana Fallaci, *****

You can read an English version of the article on which this book is based here.

Sinossi


Con "La rabbia e l'orgoglio" (2001), Oriana Fallaci rompe un silenzio durato dieci anni, dalla pubblicazione di "Insciallah", epico romanzo sulla missione occidentale di pace nella Beirut dilaniata dallo scontro tra cristiani e musulmani e dalle faide con Israele. Dieci anni in cui la Fallaci sceglie di vivere ritirata nella sua casa newyorchese, come in esilio, a combattere il cancro. Ma non smette mai di lavorare al testo narrativo dedicato alla sua famiglia, quello che lei chiama "il-mio-bambino", pubblicato postumo nel 2008, "Un cappello pieno di ciliege". L'undici settembre le impone di tornare con furia alla macchina da scrivere per dar voce a quelle idee che ha sempre coltivato nelle interviste, nei reportage, nei romanzi, ma che ha poi "imprigionato dentro il cuore e dentro il cervello" dicendosi "tanto-la-gente-non-vuole-ascoltare".

Il risultato è un articolo sul "Corriere della Sera" del 29 settembre 2001, un sermone lo definisce lei stessa, accolto con enorme clamore in Italia e all'estero. Esce in forma di libro nella versione originaria e integrale, preceduto da una prefazione in cui la Fallaci affronta alle radici la questione del terrorismo islamico e parla di sé, del suo isolamento, delle sue scelte rigorose e spietate. La risposta è esplosiva, le polemiche feroci. Mentre i critici si dividono, l'adesione dei lettori, in tutto il mondo, è unanime di fronte alla passione che anima queste pagine. (Prefazione di Ferruccio De Bortoli)


Recensione

Un libro controverso, dai toni feroci, anche troppo, solo in parte giustificabili dalla situazione: Fallaci era a New York al momento degli attacchi dell'11 settembre. A mio avviso Fallaci ha ragione a parlare del pericolo che l'Europa abbassi la guardia sulla propria identità, ma indebolisce le sue argomentazioni quando si lascia trasportare dalle emozioni del momento. Maggiore sangue freddo avrebbe reso i suoi argomenti più lucidi. In ogni caso il libro pone delle domande, scomodissime, su cui il lettore farebbe bene a ragionare. Un libro importante, un grido di dolore di un'italiana che se la prende prima di tutto con gli italiani, e gli europei, non all'altezza del retaggio culturale che gli appartiene.

Il testo dell'articolo si può leggere nell'archivio del Corriere della Sera.