Teotichucan, Tortillas and Tequilla!

So we made it to the meeting on time and luckily enough it looks like a really friendly group of people we are going to be travelling with, 15 of us consisting of Aussies, Chinese, Northern Irish, Scottish, English and a couple from Bulgaria who now not only live in London but literally round the corner from me!

Neil our tour guide (yep you guessed it, he is not Mexican) gave us the official introductions, safety advice and a rough idea as to what lies ahead over the next three weeks, then he took us out for a traditional Mexican meal. 

There was a whole assortment of goodies on the menu and every single one involved cheese! Thank goodness I am not dairy intolerant as cheese seems to be a staple part of Latin American food, along with the refried beans!

I ordered a veggie Burrito which came with all the expected vegetables including cactus! I tried it, I won't try it again!! I can't exactly describe what it tasted like, but needless to say I missed the refried beans to cover the taste!

After dinner, TC and I returned to the LatinoAmericano to appreciate the view by night 'sin' (meaning without - bit of Spanish for you there) the full on Altitude sickness, that seemed to have subsided.

It was an absolutely stunning view, seeing all the buildings lit up in the night sky, but it was also rather cold, so before too long we were rushing back to the hotel for a good nights sleep before getting on the coach at 6:50 the following morning.

I woke up before the six o'clock alarm with a nose bleed! Altitude sickness was back! And I hurried off to the bathroom before my room mate noticed and freaked out.

We met up with the rest of the group an hour later and climbed on board the coach then set of for the  pyramids at Teotichucan (pronounced Teo-to-wakan), the largest of Mexicos archeological sites.

Neil had bought us a Rosco de Rey (remember the wreath shaped cake?), to sample later in the day. But he said if anyone was feeling a bit hungry earlier on, not to be shy and just ask for some. The coach set off and within 5 minutes TC was asking politely. (For such a petite person, she has the appetite of a giant, even before leaving for this trip she had sent me a list of restaurants she had researched in Mexico City).

Our tour guide for the day was a Mexican guy called Ricki, who's family are Indigenous Mexicans; his father and uncle being well known Shamans in the area.

He greeted us with a big smile and a couple of jokes then led us over to La Ciudadela - an enormous sunken square in the centre of the mass of pyramids. (Most of these pyramids are actually pyramids that have been found within pyramids, rebuilt every few hundred years).

We climbed the steps and looked at the ruins around us - out of respect one has to walk seven steps to the right, then seven steps to the left, therefore never actually turning your back on anyone).

Ricki explained the history of his people and the Aztec pyramids. He talked about the Mexican peoples attitiude to death and how it was a positive thing, birth, life then death when you finally travel up to paradise. There is no hell for sinners, but how you live your life will result in how long it takes to get to paradise. 

In Mexico when someone dies, they party and celebrate for nine days. He looked at us and said "As the saying goes; Today is a good day to die",  we stared at him with surprise and he smiled and said "well maybe not today".

We laughed and heaved a sigh of relief at knowing he was planning on finishing the tour rather than popping off to paradise and leaving us stranded?!

We walked further along the Causeway of the dead (Calzada de Los Muertos) towards the Pyramid of the Sun - a huge structure at 70m high and 245 steps to climb! Yes,that's what I said, 245 steps to climb! Ricki explained that as we climbed if we found our hearts beating fast as though they wanted to explode, not to worry, it was just from the high altitude. I don't know about the others, but my heart was already trying to rip itself free from my chest with just the thought of it, in fact I am so unfit that I am usually on the verge of collapse climbing the three flights of stairs back home!

I'd like to say that I saw it as a challenge and went and attempted it, but it was purely out of embarrassment at being the only pathetic weakling, that drove me up those steps! The first ten were ok, it was the other 235 that were hard and I think you should know in my defence that each step juts out at a 92 degree angle not your average 90 degrees!

I struggled, my poor heart struggled, my tired legs struggled and I was on the verge of giving up when I saw my little companion smiling down from the top and I thought its now time for my 'magic rope'! This is a technique that entertains my housemate Sandie no end back home, when of an evening I am too tired to get up out of the armchair, I hold out my arms and winch myself up with an invisible rope! Apparently it's not a normal thing to do? Maybe I picked it up from my time in drama school, or maybe I am just not normal, but either way it works and it certainly did whilst climbing up the side of Piramide del sol! ( I admit I may have got a few funny looks from other passing tourists).

I almost past out but I made it to the top!! ( the photo has been destroyed as I did actually look half dead in it, so I am afraid you will just have to take my word for it).

Next was a visit to the Pyramid of the Moon - I refused to climb this one - then we set off in the coach for Ricki's house where his cousin was preparing a typical Mexican lunch for all of us.

Ricki lives in a road where all his next door neighbours are his relatives! Well it's hardly surprising seeing as his grandfather had seven wives who each had at least three children!

The lunch was delicious, if not a bit spicy at times, though I did manage to avoid the cactus this time around. Then we were treated to a shot of home made Tequilla, made by his uncle. This was an unusually sweet kind without the traditional worm floating in it, but an assortment of nuts. I rather liked it, but had to refuse the second shot for fear that my lightweight drinking habits would result in me dancing on the tables wearing nothing but the brightly coloured table cloth and I really didn't know the group that well yet!

At the end of the meal we were invited to cut into a rather large Rosco de Rey (the wreath shaped cake), guess who got the little baby Jesus hidden inside? Me! The only Jewish person in the group - my parents would be so proud!

We left there filled to the brim with food and slightly high onTequilla - or maybe that was just me? And we set of for Puebla.

Just one of those days.

This morning was an early start but not by choice, purely by jet lag - the UK is six hours ahead. However we decided to make the most of it and cram in as much as possible before the group meeting tonight at six.

Our first port of call was the hotel restaurant for a quick breakfast. I ordered an omelette which arrived with the statutory refried beans on the side! I wasn't exactly sure that was the kind if thing that appealed first thing in the morning and maybe not such a good idea for us both to be eating them three times a day, with the erm, 'repercussions', especially whilst sharing a room, but hey, I was starving and TC and I had travelled India together for two months and nothing could beat those 'repercussions'.

After breakfast we made our way towards the Latinamericano building. Completed in 1956 it was the tallest building in Mexico until the late 80's and apparently the worlds first skyscraper.  We were struggling slightly, both feeling a bit rough from the high altitude in Mexico City, with headaches, nausea and general irritability, so of course going up to the 43rd floor of a skyscraper is probably not the best remedy for altitude sickness?

We reached the observation deck and looked around at the stunning views through pained eyeballs, grunted at the vista, noticing the vastness of the highly populated city and lack of grassland - then slowly made our way back down.

The best thing to do was go for a walk to try to clear our heads, avoiding the crowds that were building up in preparation for 'The Festival of the Kings' that was being celebrated over the weekend which culminates with the children opening more Christmas presents on Sunday. A special cake is eaten over this period, it is wreath like in shape, covered in sugar and dried fruit and supposed to have a tiny image of baby Jesus in the middle. However, nowadays you can find miniature plastic baby Jesuses hidden in parts of the cake? Not sure how busy A&E is this time of year with choking incidents?

Feeling a bit better we then made our way over to the Palacio de Belles Artes (the fine art gallery), one of the 75 museums open in Mexico City (with more being built), to see the magnificent and world famous murals painted by Rivera, Orzoco and Siqueiros. 

The building is absolutely stunning - Art Nouvieux style, built in Italian white marble but it was the inside that captivated me, with its red marbeled Art Deco design: sweeping black staircases and long tall pillars with a touch of Aztec style at the top of each one.

Excitedly we climbed the stairs to wonder at the massive murals covering the walls, TC was getting overly zealous and then suddenly stopped in her tracks as she stared up at the wall in front of us. I followed her gaze, eager to see the famous artwork I had heard so much about, and there it was, one of the largest murals I have ever seen, completely covered in plastic!

Apparently renovations were taking place and every single mural was covered over for the next month! 

Completely disappointed we left the building passing under a statue of a giant spider - part of the Louise Bourgious collection that was on display for all to see. But for those of you interested in checking out her work, I found it quite dark and depressing and we were wanting to see the bright colours and lively music of Mexico, desperately in need to be drawn out of the High Altitude fugue still hanging over us. 

And so we made our way over to Plaza Garibaldi, a large square surrounded by cafés and bars and filled with hundreds of Mariachi Bands competing with each other.

As we approached along the boulevard, we could see various Mariachi stood around in the streets chatting and smoking with each other, their musical instruments slung over their shoulders as they passed the time of day.

We turned the corner and entered the main square, prepared to be pounced on by the hundreds of musicians performing for their audiences filling the tables outside the bars and cafés. 

But the square was empty, most of the cafés and bars were shut and there was a deathly silence that filled the air.

It really wasn't our day; no murals, no mariachi, not even the slightest sight of a Pinyata hanging from a tree branch for us to take our frustration out on. 

Fed up and starving, we sat down at the only restaurant serving food and drinks, took one look at the menu, then glanced over at the tiny kitchen and ordered a beer! Suddenly five Mariachi appeared and surrounded us, they said something in Spanish, my travel companion translated, I nodded and they sang us a song. Picture it dear reader, a huge square, devoid of people, surrounded by closed shops except for one small and slightly grimey restaurant outside of which sat one Mexican family at one table and two fed up English girls at another, drinking a beer whilst being serenaded to about love by five Mariachi ...

With about four and a half hours to spare before meeting the group back at our hotel, we thought it would be nice to do something different. And that involved getting onto the Mexican Metro and making our way over to Xochimilco - the floating gardens. We studied the map carefully and worked out it would take about an hour to get there via three trains, we could then take the hour trip on a boat, for what was described in the guide book as 'one of the most memoriable experiences of the city' and that would be a great way to end the day and turn it into something positive.

The metro system is not only complicated but imagine being on London Underground during morning and evening rush hour rolled into one! It was quite a scary experience but we managed to make it onto our third train before looking at our watches and realising we had 17 stops to go and had already been of the metro for nearly an hour!!

Worried we were not going to make it to the meeting in time we toyed with the idea of turning back, but having come so far and not managing to achieve anything else we had intended to that day, we refused to give in and thought that the least we could do was get to Xochimilco, admire the river and the flowers, have a quick bite to eat, listen to more Mariaches, then come back.

We lept off the train at the end of the line and hurried through the street trying to cut the ten minute walk down as best we could, pushing past the market stalls and street sellers and finally we reached the 'embarkation point'. But there was no lovely open river to look across, no river side cafés to sit at, no Mariaches (again), just what seemed like hundreds of red and yellow boats crammed next to each other moored up side by side floating on the water.

A man walked over to us trying to sell us a river ride, after a bit of bartering we agreed to squeezing in a thirty minute trip at a discount, still giving us time to enjoy it, have something to eat on the boat and get back to the hotel in time for the meeting.

Yet again things didn't go as planned: no food was provided on the boat, the river ride itself was far from relaxing and beautiful as the water, it was still crammed with other boats all trying to make their way through and we were running out of time, then suddenly TC realised she needed the loo, desperately!

Our 'captain' managed to turn the boat around and we headed back to shore, I was worried we wouldn't make it back in time to catch the train and make the meeting while TC was worried we wouldn't make it back in time for her bladder to hold out. I could hear here anxious breathing and groaning behind me and kept telling her to think of other things to keep her mind off a full bladder, but I guess that probably wasn't an easy thing to do when we were surrounded by water. This truly was a race against time. 

We got to shore, she lept off the boat, I lept at the Boat master paid him and hurried after my poor panicked travel companion who had managed to find a loo just in time! Passers by were laughing and calling out to her in panic - I think they knew!!

Once relieved, we walked back towards the train station, still starving hungry but laughing and exclaiming " It's just one of those days".

But at least we made it in time for the meeting ...

Hola amigos!

Today has been a long day, considering it started  yesterday! 

I arrived at TC's house where a cab was due to pick us up at 3:00pm in order to get us to Heathrow for 4:20 - plenty of time. By 3:03 the cab had not arrived and TC started to panic - the pacing started and the voice became high pitched - remember she was going to remain chilled during this trip!? I tried to calm her down but to no avail, by 3:05 there was nothing I could do, as far as she was concerned we weren't going to make it in time for our flight at 7:20!!! She grabbed her mobile and dialed in a frenzy then rapidly explained to the person on the other end: "... The cab hasn't arrived, we're going to be late, I called to check early this morning, where is it, we have to get to heathrow! Oh sorry, sorry. Thanks, Andrew, take care". She hung up looking sheepish, I gave her a questioning look and she told me that she had accidentally dialled Andrew, The hairdresser! 

Needless to say the cab arrived and we got to the airport with plenty of time to spare and seventeen hours later we arrived in Mexico City, just in time for breakfast.

Mexico City is one of the largest cities in the world with a population of over 20 million people! And it seemed like every single one of them was walking along the streets today - think Nottinghill carnival and times that by ten! Couple that with an altitude of over 2400m above sea level and a high rate of pollution and you can imagine how delightful it was for two (young) ladies with severe jet lag from little old London Town, to attempt a peaceful stroll. 

I have to say at 5'5 and three quarters I feel like a giant here! As I make my way along the crowded streets all I see is a sea of heads in front of me, even my petite travel companion says she finds it weird not to have to keep looking up at people when she talks to them. 

Unlike our previous trip together, we have managed to stay out of trouble on our first day, I am pleased to say that so far there have been no incidents with the police, apart from being told off by a couple of them for wearing sunglasses as we entered some of the protected sites! 

We managed to get to The Zocalo - the huge central square, (third largest in the world) which had some kind of fake tobogganing event going on in the middle - obviously? We stepped inside the Palacio Nacional and saw some of the stunning Diego Rivera murals and we checked out a few Cathedrals. 

I am pleased to report that up til now we have not been held up at gun point or kidnapped by bandits, (according to one of my clients I should beware of all men with moustaches - I think she just meant out here?)

And apart from a slight bit of concern over the authenticity of a fruit smoothie, my travel companion has managed to stay calm with regard to food poisoning issues - not bad so far!

But exhaustion has got the better of us and so at 6:30pm I am turning in for the night, with no energy to write any more for now.  Tomorrow we meet the rest of our group and then the tour officially begins ...

Hasta La Vista Highgate! Mexico here I come ........

Hola mis amigos, he vuelto!! (Hopefully translated as 'Hello my friends, I am back!' But if not I apologise should I have actually said anything offensive;  please blame it on the Spanish/English translator on my ipad!?)

Yes, once again it is that time of year!! The time of year when "I pack up my troubles in my old kit bag and ..."  fly off somewhere exotic and exciting and preferably much hotter and drier than over here!!!

Previously, I have vicariously taken you East, through a few countries in Asia, but this time round we are going WEST!!! To the continent of America.

We fly out tomorrow to spend a couple of days in Mexico City, with the intention of squeezing in a few sights in the largest city in the world before meeting up with a group of 14 other fellow travellers and spending the next three weeks travelling with them through Southern Mexico, into Belize and finishing in Guatemala.

After which, everyone goes on their merry way and I fly back up to Mexico, to spend a few days chilling out on a beach and drinking Tequila!!

But who am I going away with this year? I hear you ask. Well my partner in crime has asked to remain anonymous and would like to be referred to as 'The Girl with the Golden Curls'!! However, I feel that may be a tad too much to keep typing, so from here on in she will be known as 'Travel Companion' or 'TC' for short - (Suffice it to say, those of you that travelled with me through my blog in India two years ago, may well recognise my feisty little Travel Companion and her little idiosyncrasies - need I say more)!

I feel I should also point out, that whilst I was happily planning on returning to Asia and exploring some more of that amazing continent, it was 'TC' who suggested going to Mexico instead, just like she had chosen to go to India the last time we travelled together. And just like that last time, she has been quite adamant that she will be unrecognisable during the said travelling, by promising a new stress free attitude to life, as well as ensuring to remain in complete control of her OCD issues ... but dear reader, you and I have heard this all before haven't we? And we all KNOW what happened in India!

Since last I blogged, the year has been a whirlwind of ups and downs, tears and laughter, fun and follicks and accidents and emergencies (a trip to the hospital on a tiny Island in Greece in order to retrieve a rogue ear plug stuck down my lughole this summer was an hysterical experience). 

The highlight of the year was my sister's wedding!! It was such an amazing day that will be etched in my memory for ever more - particularly when the Groom's mobile phone rang just after the Registrar asked if anyone had anything to say against them becoming man and wife - but luckily it was just the AA and apparently they had a special offer on that day!!!??

Sadly the lowest point of the year was a few months back with the news that my lovely dad has Motor Neurone Disease. Understandably devastating to all of us. And yet again the love and support we are receiving from family and friends has been overwhelming and amazing and I thank you all.

My mum has told me not to cancel this trip, in her words 'Don't you dare, I want you to travel the world and do as much with your life as you can - while you can!'.

And so I  have packed my brand new ruck sack (unfortunately I couldn't find a pink one), put my passport in it's new protective cover (yes a pink one) and strapped on my new walking boots (yes you got it, partially pink), I am now excited and raring to go.

Whilst travelling through India two years ago, I received an email from my dad. He had never really been one for expressing gushy sentiment, but instead will always have a joke and a story to tell. So this particular email kind of took me by surprise and because of that I wanted to share it with you:

My darling Rosalie,
You astound me. Your writings are magnificent I honestly believe you could  have a new career writing.
My love we miss you like mad but it's lovely to know you are having such a  fantastic time.
My love to you both and Ros, keep up the fab blogs.  Keep up the good work and enjoying yourselves so much.
All my love
Dad

This time round, I am dedicating my blog to my wonderful father Melvyn, who I hope manages to read this years installment and if so 'Dad, it seems I have inherited your ability to tell a story and laugh at an awkward situation - as well as myself -  and that has been my saviour in so many ways. I love you too'!!!

And so now back to 'the story' ...

My Travel Companion is fluent in Spanish (as well as French and Russian!) and I have asked her to be aware that I only know two Spanish phrases: 'Donde esta la mantequilla', which means 'Where is the butter' - I don't know why I know that phrase, I just like how it sounds!!! And 'Quien es tu papi?!', which means 'Who's your daddy?!' Don't ask me how I know that phrase, but suffice it to say I went out with a Mexican many years ago and apparently it's generally ill advised to go using it out on the streets of Mexico - it kinda gives out the wrong impression!

I promised TC that I would try and learn some more Spanish if I possibly could and tried to explain that unlike her, learning languages has never been something that I have found easy or in fact possible. To which she replied:

"Well I don't understand why, I mean you picked up English pretty well".

Ho, hum ... we have a long journey ahead ...

Tea for two? Pah, pass me the Daquiries!!

It has been a few days since last I blogged. To be honest with you I have been so busy lying on the beach in Koh Lanta and getting pampered that I just haven't had the time or energy to write. It's a hard life I know!

Anyway, before I fill you in on my time on this lovey little island off the mainland of Thailand, I need to take you back just over a week to continue from whence I left off ...

We had stayed the night at The Home-stay, where everyone made us feel very welcome, especially the Mosquitos! Our guide's brother in law had told us a little bit about his childhood during the war; how he had never gone to school because he had to spend nearly every day hiding in holes in the ground with his family in case the Khmer Rouge should find them and then they would surely have been killed. He told us how that there was no food left, they were all being starved out and so they had to learn how to eat insects and to be careful about which unknown fruits to pick as many were poisonous. He said his stomach was so swollen from malnutrition and worms that it hurt every day.

We all went to bed that night feeling very humbled.

After a night of practically no sleep, due to the hard floor, the intense heat, Sergio snoring and the TV blaring downstairs, (electricity runs off a car battery for a few hours in the night), we gathered all our belongings and had breakfast together around the big table outside. The grandma came and sat with us and our guide translated any questions we wanted to ask her. When it was her turn to ask us questions, she only had one: "When Westerners come to visit us, why are they always so white? And what long noses you all have!"

Interesting?! Well I am sure there are a few plastic surgeons specialising in Rhinoplasty that will be benefiting from her observations!

We bade our farewells and piled onto the coach to set off for our final leg of the tour to Siem Reap, within minutes everyone was fast asleep!

Siem Reap is the home of Angkor and its many ancient temples. And not forgetting Pub Street and the three vast night markets!!

We arrived at our destination formerly known as The Angkor Way but now it's name has been changed to something to do with a Chinese airline, however no one refers to it as anything but The Angkor Way!? After dropping our ages into our respective rooms, Karen and I along with Nicola went for a walk to try and suss out the local shops and buy an ice cream. There didn't seem to be much in the way of mini marts, there was however a cute little shop that sold some charming nick-backs, clothes and bags. For once I managed to refrain from diving into my purse, however Karen bought a rather fetching bag made from Cambodian silk.

Later on that afternoon, when I was lounging around the pool with Nicola and Andrea, my iPad started to ring; it was Karen 'Face-timing' me from the balcony just above. Apparently, she didn't want to alarm me by screaming across the pool area, but she wanted to let me know that she had been given an added extra in her new bag! On reaching in to it to take out the newspaper stuffing, she noticed some movement and stepped back just as a lizard leapt out from within. I told her not to worry, that it was quite harmless. Then she informed me it was heading towards my back pack!!

Within seconds I had sent Nicola (our resident vet) up to our room to deal with the situation!

That night, all Lizard free - thanks to Nicola - four of us decided to go and check out Siem Reap's FCC (Foreign Correspondence Centre), then Sam and the rest of the group were going to pick us up on route to dinner.

Caroline, Nicola, Karen and myself piled into the waiting Tuk Tuk and a couple of minutes later stepped out in front of a stunning French Colonial building, beautifully lit up by lanterns and a tiny footpath over a little pond. And to top it all, it was Happy Hour until 7! Two cocktails for the price of one! That was two cocktails each! Generally not a good idea for me as I rarely drink.

By the time the group came to fetch us, I was two Daiquiries down and had started to lose sensation in my knees and tongue!? (Yes I know, it's pathetic! But I hadn't eaten either!!)

We got to the restaurant Sam had booked for us. I think it was lovely, I don't really remember?! But I do vaguely remember ordering my dinner and just playing with it when it arrived. I think I may have had what I thought was an in depth conversation with Sergio (74 year old University lecturer on Engineering from Chile), about leg waxing and eyelash tinting?!

Dinner was almost finished when the stage dancing started. And no, thank goodness, that wasn't me - though I was tempted. We sat and watched a group of dancers performing traditional Cambodian Dancing, known as Apsara Dancing.

The costumes were beautiful as was the dancing, tho it has to be said, the dancers were quite young and not too professional. You see their faces are supposed to look unemotional and still so as not to distract the audience allowing them to concentrate on the dance. However, a couple kept 'corpsing' (those of you not in the know with us 'luvvies' that means laughing or grinning) and unfortunately that's where most of our attention went. (Mind you my attention span was pretty short that night due to the cocktail consumption earlier).

And that was the end of our first evening in Siem Reap. The others went off to the night market and I crawled into bed and slept really well ... Had to prepare for two days worth of Temple watching!!

Would you like some black pepper or Parmesan with your tarantula?

And so we were all up early and sat on the private bus on our way to The Homestay in Kampong Thom. It was a five hour drive down through the countryside, but we did manage to stop off for our 'Happy Toilet Stop' at a little lay by, packed with traders selling fruit, souvenirs and other snacks. Primarily having the choice of either deep fried tarantulas, deep fried crickets, deep fried water beetles or deep fried WHOLE sparrows!

My gag reflex started to kick in as I stared with morbid fascination at the trader while he showed us how to peel and eat the insects. And even then I can assure you they didn't look appetising!

Sam walked over and smiled, he told us they were ok to eat, nothing special, except that the water beetles were kind of creamy when you bite into their bodies ... That was just a little too much information for me and I stepped back and wretched quite loudly! Luckily we were in Asia where a little bit of public flatulence is quite common, so no one even batted an eyelid at me!!

(Apparently eating insects dates back to the war when food was very rare to find, so the people had to resort to eating insects.)

We all piled back onto the bus and travelled along for another couple of hours before stopping off at a market and restaurant area for lunch. I wasn't hungry, I still had insects flying through my mind, so I settled for a bag full of Rambutan, (tropical fruit that looks similar to Lychee) and slowly picked at them for the rest of the journey.

A few hours later we stopped off at Sambor Prei Kuk, to take a look at a few of the 100 ancient brick temples scattered around the forest. These temples and monuments were built approximately five centuries before those down in Angkor. Looking around at them, stood amongst the trees in the forest, they looked like something out of an Indiana Jones film.

Our guide met us as we disembarked from the bus and within a few minutes we were surrounded by the most gorgeous, cute looking children aged between five and eleven. All grinning up at us and chatting away as they held out various bright coloured scarves to sell for $1 each. (The currency in Cambodia are Reils and/or American dollars!) They impressed us with their grasp of basic English, as well as French and German!

They followed us around as we were taken to see a few of the larger temples; Prasat Sambor - a group of temples dedicated to the Hindu god Shiva. Then there was Prasat Yeay Poeun, whose Eastern Gate is supported by a strangling fig tree, it's roots having wound their way through and around the brickwork.

The children pointed out bomb craters that were quite close to some of the temples. The craters yet another permanent reminder of the war against the Khmer Rouge.

I smiled down at one of the little girls as she held out her scarves, suddenly there was another standing on my other side. Her little face looking up at me with puppy dog eyes. To quote from The Lonely Planet: " Some travellers find them (the children) a distraction. But others, after warming to their smiles, have been known to leave with a pile of cheap textiles". Guess which category I fell in to?!

The days Temple Tour reached its end and the ten of us - and our scarves - climbed on board the waiting bus and we were taken off to the Home-stay in a nearby village.

This particular home stay belonged to our guides mother in law and her seven children! It was a large wooden building built on stilts and when the temperatures got too high, the family would sleep in their hammocks underneath. In fact both the kitchen and living areas were all under the house too.

Chickens ran around freely, cows were grazing in the yard nearby and one of the locals was climbing up a palm tree to collect the sweet syrupy juice from its flowers.

I climbed the outside stairs and went up to inspect where we were going to be sleeping for the night. There was a set of double doors on the side of the building, I opened the, and entered.

Inside was one extremely large room. There were thin mattresses with a pillow lying on the floor, running either side of the room, sectioned off by curtains made from sheets. It probably sounds quite ghastly, but actually looked quite fun - particularly the ones with the pink mosquito nets!

Downstairs in the main courtyard was a brick building divided into two rooms, in one room was the toilet, (luckily a western style one) and the other was the shower room, which basically consisted of a large trough filled with water and a plastic pan to scoop the water with. THIS probably sounds quite ghastly, but it looked quite interesting! (I was quite pleased I had washed my hair at the hotel the night before, cause there was no way I would be able to shampoo and condition my frizz with a plastic saucepan!!

Sam was cooking dinner that night, the choice was chicken and beef or vegetarian curries. Like most men, he made a big deal about the fact that he was the chef for the night and that we should watch him at work and admire his culinary talents. (I know I am being sexist, but lets face it, it's bloody true!). But first, our guide walked us through a large field of grazing cows, so that we could watch the sunset over the lake. It was absolutely stunning to see.

By the time we got back to the Home stay, the cooking was well under way and Sam was hard at work on his chicken curry, bubbling away in a pot over the fire. I nervously asked the guide if the chicken was one of the ones running around the Home-stay. He smiled at me and said "Yes". My face dropped and I responded "You could have said no!" He smiled at me and said "No".

I turned to Nicola (the vet brought up on a farm) stood next to me and said in a shocked tone, "They've just killed one of these chickens!" she smiled and nodded "I know, I think that's why we were taken for a walk just before".

I had the vegetarian meal that night.

The 1970's, known for flares, hippies, bad hair dos and GENOCIDE!

Today was an extremely harrowing day! First stop was The Tuol Sieng Genocide Museum followed by The Killing Fields.

And so on a serious note, I would like to point out that some of you may not want to read today's blog, as it contains some upsetting material, but also know that what I have been able to write about, only touches the surface of what went on during Pol Pot's reign in Cambodia ...

The Museum is housed at what used to be Security Prison-21 (S-21), which prior to Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge regime, was in fact Tuol Svay Prey high School!

S-21 became the largest of the detention centres in Cambodia, where millions of 'Political' prisoners were brutally tortured and once they finally gave in and made their enforced confessions of spying and betrayal, (even though these were untrue!!!), they were taken to The Killing Fields and executed. And that was if they were not fortunate to have died or managed to commit suicide before! (Eventually barbed wire was nailed across the front of some of the buildings to prevent prisoners jumping to their deaths over the balconies).

We walked through the old school rooms, disgusted and sickened at the photographic evidence on display, shocked at the tiny bricked cells built into each classroom, each cell just big enough to hold one inmate shackled in solitary confinement with nothing but an old metal first aid box for a toilet! There was no bed, no mattress, no window and in some cases no door! Each prisoner lived on a bowl of rice porridge a day, in which they were lucky to find more than two grains of rice! And when I say Prisoners I mean, men, women AND children of ALL ages!!

The Khmer Rouge kept records of everything, photographs of every prisoner, both before and after torture and even had artists paint scenes of some of the brutalities that took place.

As Pol Pot's terror continued to reign, so did his paranoia and it wasn't long before many Khmer Rouge members started to find themselves joining the other prisoners in being tortured and murdered.

By 1977 it was said that an average of 100 people a day were being killed at S-21 alone!

In 1979, the Vietnamese finally liberated Phenom Penh, they stormed S-21 and found only 7 prisoners still alive; the group consisted of photographers and artists. Another 14 prisoners were found dead in different torture rooms. Each one still bound to their respective beds, nothing about them recognisable apart from the fact that they were all adults; thirteen male and one female. I couldn't look at the photos hanging in each room, the images my mind was creating was enough to make my stomach churn.

We walked through a room filled with torture equipment on display, again more photographs and again more parallels with The Holocaust!

The final room contained a small altar on which sat a little gold stupor. Incense sticks were smouldering around it as people lit them in respect of the millions murdered. High on the wall hung a large framed photograph of the map of Cambodia, but this was no ordinary map. It was made up from hundreds of human skulls, skulls of Pol Pot's victims!

The gruesome map had been devised by the Vietnamese in memory of the dead, however The Cambodians understandably found it offensive and after much discussion it was dismantled!

To the left of the stupor stood a large glass cabinet that housed the hundreds of skulls originally used to make the map along with other human bones. I stared at them in disbelief and turned to our guide for the day. My Western way of thinking kicked in and I asked him why they hadn't been buried, it seemed like an incredibly macabre thing to have them on display. He explained to me that the majority of Cambodians are Buddhists and therefore would have been cremated on a funeral pyre. However, because there were millions of bodies, many of the Cambodian people were in conflict as to what to do, seeing as there was no way to tell who each bone belonged to. And so it was agreed that this was in act, the most respectful thing to do.

I turned away feeling deeply distraught that these people had suffered so much and in my Western eyes had not been properly laid to rest. I lit an incense stick and prayed for all of them and the victims of other Genocides that had taken place before, since and probably in the future. And then I cried ... I sobbed ...

I stepped out into the sunshine and as I cried I looked around at this ordinary looking place, a place built to educate and protect children, a place where children would play together and forge new friendships. An ordinary looking place that was turned into a hell hole. And I continued to cry.

Bob walked over to me and held me as I sobbed and begged the question: "Why?" All he could do was shake his head. "I don't understand, I don't understand!" Was all I could manage to stutter. He looked at me and said: "I know, this is the kind of thing that makes you question your faith in god". "No", I said, "This is the kind of thing that makes me question my faith in mankind!"

I had to question whether or not to join the others as they left to go and visit The Killing Fields of Choeung Ek and decided it was important to go. Just as I believe it is important for people to go visit The Concentration Camps from the Second World War and remember the millions murdered then.

From 1975 to 1978 approx 17,000 men, women and children, all torture victims from S-21 were executed at Choeung Ek. The majority of them bludgeoned to death with whatever could be found, the children picked up and their heads smashed against "The Killing Tree" and all because it was thought to be a waste of money to use bullets! (Again reminiscent of the Nazis). The bodies were left in mass graves where DDT was poured over them to speed up decomposition, poison anyone still barely alive and to cover up the smell!

In 1980, 129 mass graves were found, as were the remains of 8985 people. Every year during monsoon season, the rain draws more bones, teeth and ragged clothing to the surface.

In 1988 a memorial stupor was erected near the exit of what was once the beautiful orchard of Choeung Ek. Behind the glass panels, than 8000 skulls, separated by age and sex can be seen carefully and respectfully arranged.

It was almost just gone lunchtime by the time we left, but I was in no mood for eating and so I went back to the hotel and slept for an hour. After which I met up with Caroline for a nice peaceful walk around The Royal Palace.

The Royal Palace was closed due to the preparations for the Kings funeral next week. Only Cambodians were allowed through to pay their respects and so we went off to see The Silver Pagoda - so named because of the floor covered in over 5000 silver tiles.

Preserved by the Khmer Rouge to "demonstrate its concern for the conservation of Cambodia's riches to the rest of the world". The main thing that stood out for me in The Silver Pagoda was that it was the only place during the whole of our tour where the Buddha statues had not had the gems stolen from their eye sockets. They were quite beautiful and it was a perfect serene place to visit after the horrors of the morning.

Particularly entertaining was the family of monkeys playing around outside, looking very cute and cuddly. That is until a French tourist got a bit too close to one of the baby monkeys and offered it a flower to eat. The mother monkey barred her teeth and hissed at the poor French Man as she ran towards him. He turned on his heel and tried to hurry away in a casual and cool type manner. Boy did we laugh!

That evening Karen, Liz, Jamilla, Caroline and myself took a Tuk Tuk over to The Foreign Correspondence Club - or FCC as it is known - for a cocktail. This was where the foreign journalists used to 'hang out' during the war. We climbed the steps to the roof bar and looked out over the city of Phenom Pen as we supped on our Mojitos, daiquiris and margaritas. Unable to fathom what had happened in this lovely country, not even forty years ago ...

An apt way to spend a morning on a day that was coincidentally enough, World Holocaust Memorial Day!

It was early to bed that night, after all it had been a full on day and we had to be up early the following day to head off to a home stay in Kampong Thom, but not before stopping off at a little cafe, where the speciality was ... Deep fried tarantulas!