Angkor Wat must be one of the most visited sites in South East Asia. Seam Reap's viability is directly related to the tourism to Angkor Wat. Hopefully, these 7 tips to help you make the most of your visit to the park will set you in good stead for yet another  amazing day in Cambodia.

All the posts I've done about Cambodia
Angkor Wat - Our Day In The Park

It was with baited breath that I approached Varanasi. I knew it was India's holiest city and while I was very keen to experience it I also had heard about how heartbreakingly poor it is. What no-one had told me however was the reason of its spiritual importance. 

Varanasi is on the Ganges which is Hindu's sacred river. According to The Smithsonian, Hindu legend, Lord Shiva unleashed the Ganges from the knot of his hair. Over 2.5 million people make their way to Varanasi to bathe in the Ganges. What is now a polluted, smelly, infected river would once have been a pure serene waterway. The current can be strong which is Varanasi's saving grace. With the rubbish that goes into it, a slower current would mean much much MUCH worse pollution.

Holding such spiritual importance has turned Varanasi into a "gods waiting room" situation. Being cremated on the Ganges is the ultimate in Hindu spirituality. The belief that having your ashes laid in the Ganges at Varanasi will allow your soul to go direct to heaven is indisputable. Referred to Moksha this concept says that the holier the location of your cremation the better your chances are of going straight to heaven and avoiding being reincarnated as a cockroach or a cow in the next life. This belief is responsible for the number of people thronging to Varanasi, however death rights and customs dictate that burials must happen within a very truncated timetable, ideally before the next dawn or dusk. The result is many terminally ill people coming to Varanasi to die. Being as close to the river as possible ensures your cremation in this one of the most important Hindu locations. What this has meant in reality is that the Ghats and immediate area's around the river have had an influx of hospice type facilities sprout up. Sadly that doesn't mean the same thing in India that it does here. Some are just huge rooms with cots and stretchers that dying people pay an exorbitant fee for just to be this close to their gods when they pass. So in one of the poorest countries on earth slum lords still rule.

The cremation ghat which operates 24/7 initially seems to be grossly devoid of respect. Rubbish is cast into the river (which I will never understand), men mill around smoking and chatting and seem to be completely ignoring the actual ritual. What I came to know however was that the Hindu attitude to death is in my opinion much  healthier than ours. Sure they seem to be totally without compassion for this loved ones remains, however their religion tells them that this person is either on their way to heaven or will come back in a reincarnated form. This is simply the shell and the process is focused on turning this vessel back to the gods as it is just no longer required. There is mourning and there is sadness but that is tempered with a quiet knowledge that this is not the end. 

In a western society where we rarely even see a loved one after they are deceased, it seems refreshingly open and after watching maybe 3 or 4 cremations I could really appreciate it.

Walking along the Ghats especially at sundown is something everyone visiting Varanasi should do. While they do seem all the same, they have very different purposes. Some are kind of like hostels where visiting academics might stay, some are palaces, some are residential area's and some are dedicated to simply one festival for the year. I can't begin to tell you names and purposes but that's what Wikipedia is for right?

We were visiting the Mursi tribe in the Omo Valley area of Ethiopia. The trip out to the tribe from Jinka was an hour and 45 minutes in a little bongo van and the tribe usually gets only one van visit per day. They are cattle farmers so most of the men are not in the village during the day, or for days on end for that matter. So when you get there it is primarily women and children.

We had a local guy take us out and he had told us that to take pictures it was 5 Birr which is around 20c (USD). So we all had some change (some of us more than others) and were keen to hear about the tribe and their stories. 

When we get there we are taken to one families hut and the guide tells us that the villagers know that we want to learn about their culture and look around first and then we will be taking photos. So he proceeds to tell us all about this family and the tribes customs and practices.

While we are listening this little woman sidles up next to me and looking me up and down, smiles and pats my boob. Like "is that real?" kind of pat. Not a grope, definitely a pat. Pete one of the guys was next to me and while Pete's not exactly led a sheltered life he looks decidedly uncomfortable. I've got around 20 years on Pete and he's quite Southern for want of a better word so I can understand that it makes him a bit unsettled to have a local woman handling my breasts.

I am trying not to giggle and when I look at her she has the cheekiest face and is grinning back at me and nodding like she is very chuffed with herself. We keep learning about the village and while we are wandering around she pops back and while chatting to one of her "Housewives Of The Mursi" cohorts smiles and again pats my boobs. She's escalated to patting both now and is clearly intrigued. They are roaring with laughter and I'm not really bothered so Julia and I are also both having a giggle.

Learning time ends and photo time starts and its frigging bedlam. They all come out in their finery with lip plates and peircings, head dress and feathers, paint and beads adorning every neck, head and chest. I took about 10 photo's mostly becuase I never cope very well with you buy you buy, and in this case its you take photo, you take photo and I'm a bit put off to tell you the truth. 

Everyone else is taking their shots and paying their 5 birr to each model and we are all having fun. Julia, Tom and I move over to the shade of a tree and Ms Cheeky and a few other women and their children follow us. They soon figure out that we aren't going to take any more photo's so they start trying in earnest to communicate with us. Particularly Julia and me. I think mostly as Julia is a full Ginga and my color has faded out with the African sun and cheap shampoo to be pretty orange as well. 

Ms Cheeky is still fixated on my boobs and Julia suggests its because I'm older than her and she can't quite figure out how I might have had 4 children, be my age and have boobs that aren't tickling my toes. That's exactly what she says by the way!  I hadn't thought about it but it makes sense so I pull my bra strap out of the top of my TShirt and show Ms Cheeky my bra strap. I think she will realise that my boobs are being supported and leave it at that. Nope - that didn't work, so I raise my TShirt to show her the bra. Quick as a rattler she moves in and grabs my bra and janks it up, screams in delight and gives my nipple the biggest squeeze! OMG. I yelp, Julia snorts water out her nose, Ms Cheeky wails and the balance of her possy scream with what can only be interpreted as "white boob hysteria". Tom the poor guy bolts and doesn't know quite where to look.

Julia and I are in hysterics, so much so that our guide comes over to see what's going on. I'm pretty sure Ms Cheeky tells him some load of bullshit as he seems non plussed and walks back to the other group.

We have now made firm friends with Ms Cheeky and the Cheekettes. It is so cool that despite language, cultural and geographical differences here we are in the Omo Valley in Ethiopia with other women laughing about boobs. We think that will be the delight of the day and are grinning like fools.

Now that she's clearly being exactly who she is, Ms Cheeky has gained confidence and starts to chat to her posy. They are looking at Julia and talking and at exactly the same time Julia and I look at each other and realise that she is wondering if the carpet matches the drapes! It is so clear that is what she is thinking so Julia gives her the head nod and turning around (we're being discreet here - well we are trying) pulls her pants out and shows her. The look on her face was priceless! She is open mouthed, then screams, then smacks Julia on the arm and turns and launches into what we can only surmise is a vivid description of Julia's nether regions. OMG we are in stitches, they are in stitches, the guide comes over and separates us (what are we 12?) and all the boys wander back wondering what in the hell is going on. 

I've always said that if you want to, really want to, you can communicate with anyone. Turns out you can do it to the extent of showcasing to a group of Mursi women that yes, us Mzungu's can have hair color diversity and more so - yes we can all laugh about it. Humour breaks the ice in so many situations but you know I don't think I've ever felt closer to people I met less than an hour before than on that day. We all completely discarded our modesty and had fun doing it. 

Goodness help the next van load of people the following day!

Head-Smashed-In is pretty much exactly as it sounds. Its a first nation site about 175 km's south of Calgary just north of Fort Macleod. Its a few hours drive but 100% worth it. The drive is mostly just through plains and grasslands however I did it mid April and the weather, while cool, was nice, the skies clear and I got to plug in my Spotify and sing as loud as I wanted. So I guess I kind of killed two birds so to speak. I got to see Head-Smashed-In but I also got to drive and play my own music without fear of disturbing others. Good deal really.

Like me I'm sure your first instinct is that the name comes from the buffalo being crushed at the bottom of the cliff, but it doesn't. Apparently at one point the tribe was driving buffalo over the cliff and a young brave wanted to see it up close. He wedged himself in under a ledge to see the buffalo falling but misjudged and was crushed in the process. When they found him they named in Head-Smashed-In-Buffalo-Jump as sadly his skull was crushed from the buffalo carcasses.

You know that sometimes asking questions is well received and other times its not? Of course I want to understand everything so I'm always asking something. Today - my questions got me directed to Mr Little Leaf, a first nation elder (sorry using the Australian term there as not sure what the Canadian first nation term is) who is of course local to the area and a pure Blackfoot. It was just after opening and he was free as a bird as he put it. He very kindly walked me through the entire facility, telling me stories not just about the jump but his own family and the history of the local Blackfoot.

What a score!

While the facility itself is amazing, having my very own guide and hearing first hand so many amazing stories made my experience truly spectacular.

There were so many conditions that had to be right for the jump to work. Wind, temperature, where they were in the season and of course training the younger people of the tribe to contribute. Too early and they often didn't get enough meat and fat off the animals, too late and they risked the buffalo moving on and not getting anything.

They would situate branches stuck into rock piles in the direct of the cliff. These branches would wave in the wind and rustle further spooking the buffalo. Many warriors would line the drive lanes, hidden under grasses and skins just waiting for the run to start. Once directed they would jump up and add to the drama that kept the buffalo on the lane.

A few of the best trackers would slowly creep up on the herd dressed in wolf skins. They weren't trying to scare the beasts, they would keep their actions slow and deliberate until the buffalo's were well and truly in the drive lanes without realizing it. They would play on the buffalo's instinct to protect their young knowing that once the first of the herd started to run - the rest would follow. It was an amazing achievement especially when you know that they used every single part that they could of the beasts.

Meat was cut and dried and then mixed with the fat and juniper berries (which helped to preserve it) into what looks like pulled beef. It was ground down into almost a powder and then stored for the winter. Skins & fur made clothes and equipment. Bones made tools and medicinal remedies. There was pretty much nothing they left behind. No recycling required! The only thing they did tend to leave was the skulls.  No-one could really tell me why but Little Leaf did say he thought it was mostly a time constraint and also to honor the animals. The skulls didn't have long enough bones to be really useful and of course once they had hundreds of dead animals they had limited time to slaughter and store the meat so something had to give. That makes sense too.

It is estimated in the day that 60-70 million buffalo grazed this area. I couldn't seem to get an accurate square mile estimation, but Little Leaf assured me that the land easily supported that number. This particular jump was last used around 1820 some time. The introduction of guns meant that the Blackfoot didn't have to work as hard to kill the beasts and the practice became obsolete.

If you do the centre, be sure and do the lower trails after you leave the building. Once you have heard the stories its easy to hear the tribe celebrating and the thunder of the hooves. I shit you not - you can feel it. I'm sure its just in your brain but it is almost impossible not to image what it must have been like on those days.

One of the best things I've done and I wouldn't hesitate to recommend it to anyone. Keep your mind open, look at all of the exhibits as they all tell stories and put yourself back into that time, in the fall and imagine the excitement that must have been around in the build up to the jump.

I spent a week in Kyoto (which you would know reading my previous posts). I could have added maybe one or two more days but I did make the trip to Osaka and Kobe indepentant of my time here at Kyoto so that would have probably been the difference in days spent here.

From temples to outlying area's, Kyoto has some incredible things to see and do. Its a big city but its incredibly laid back. Everything is very busy but there is no pushy shovey. Well - outside of Gion that is.

Gion is known as "The Geisha District" and while I wasn't fixated on the perfect Geisha photo, I did try very hard to get a behind the scenes look at the preparation process. I really tried to get some kind of inside experience but sadly not to be. I wanted to see the process that was involved in these women coming into the area as their natural selves and leaving the building on their way to a tea service, fully transformed. Unbeknown to me this is a fiercely protected process and I ended up just wandering the area along with thousands of other tourists.

If you know me at all, you know I'm not great with crowds so I wandered off into the more internal area's of the suburb. I was sitting on a stoop, trying to get my camera settings sorted when this gorgeous woman tottered down the street, smiled the most brilliant smile to me and ducked into a tea house. I had a quick "snap" and thought nothing of it until a few days later when I was sorting images and found this. While less than perfect from a photography stand point, I love it.

My very own Geisha portrait.

Unfortunately my experience was dulled slightly by the walk home when no less than 20-30 people harrassed this Geisha walking down the main street. While I know they must be used to it - NOT ACCEPTABLE PEOPLE! Their patience is admirable but they must just want to yell "F Off!" at the top of their voice.