Yolanda Saayman Photography

An Orange Affair!
FIFA World Cup Semi Final: Holland vs Uruguay
Cape Town
06 July 2010

I have never been a football fan - ever. I don’t think that up until now, I have ever watched a game of soccer from start to finish and if you told me a month ago that my perception would change, I would have laughed at you. It was unimaginable that I would get hooked on this game which took hold of South Africa since the opening ceremony on 11 June 2010.

So, when I was offered a semi-final ticket to watch Holland play against Uruguay, the answer was undoubtedly YES!

Initially I thought it was a hoax, but when I got my tickets at 16h30 on Tuesday afternoon, I knew it was real. I walked down to the fan walk or fun walk as some people refer to it. The atmosphere was electrifying with literally a sea of orange flowing towards the Cape Town Stadium. All I needed to do was jump in and float downstream…and I did.

Never has there been so many people in the streets of Cape Town before and I should know – I live in this city! There were serious fans. Super fans. They came a long way and went all out of the way to support their teams.

There were many water holes and food stalls along the way. The music was pumping from every bar and off the pavements. Street acrobats and performers were plenty, entertaining the crowd en-route to the stadium – ticket holders and non-ticket holders alike. We stopped for a beer or two while I was trying to capture the vibe and some of the football fanatics, talking and laughing with strangers and FEELING IT!

Everything went so smooth and when it was time for kick-off, we were seated and ready for what was to be a brilliant game, an orange affair!

Holland beat Uruguay with 3 goals to 2 and the victory was sweet. HUP HOLLAND HUP!

One thing is certain: When the Tavern of the Seas invite you to sit down for a meal and the table is set with a smorgasbord, you have no choice but to share in the feast!

Do it again? Absolutely!

Yolanda Saayman

Cambodia
May 2010

Maybe it is important to emphasize that this is my experience and overall impression of Cambodia…

We all have pre-conceived ideas of things, the world and how we would like it to be, until you are faced with reality. Sometimes we are pleasantly surprised by reality and sometimes, immensely disappointed. Such is life…

I arrived at Siem Reap International airport at night. Siem Reap is the gateway to the Angkor Wat Archaeological National Park. It is a tourist hive and not a real reflection on Cambodian life. Everything costs a Dollar. Tourists even refer to it as the U$1-city. Real = Nothing. Dollar is the currency to use and ATM’s dispense Dollars. Children will sing for money and the refrain would be “money”.

Once you venture out to the areas surrounding the Tonlé Sap, you perceive poverty and a life of extreme simplicity. You see a different view of Cambodia, children playing in the rain and riding over-sized bicycles - happy, smiling and eager to greet foreigners without expectations of any gain.

I spent a couple of days in Battambang visiting the surrounding sites including Phnom Sampeau, also known for the Killing Cave. This was the first visible, remaining sign of the Khmer Rouge brutality – a reality check. Toni, our tuk-tuk driver and survivor of the genocide, introduced us to Nha. Nha was a 10-year old, bright young boy who was very surprised that we were planning to walk to the top of the hill in the extreme heat. He kept asking us: “To the top?” and every now and again would request us to stop as he was tired. Dicing him up the hill made him laugh and his fighting spirit grew on me. The locals at the top was as surprised when we steamed past them: “OH MY GOD!!! You walked here?”

In Battambang I saw many people who seemed to do well for themselves. There is a strong Chinese influence in Battambang and one has to wonder how they make their money. Some of these people drive large 4×4’s and their children are dressed in uniform and go to school - I had a glimpse of the flipside of the coin…

Although I had no intention of spending much time in Phnom Penh, I stayed a couple of days. Phnom Penh reminded me of a shack-town and not the capital of a country. I was convinced to visit the Tuong Sleng Genocide Museum and the Killing Fields. The first impressed me a lot, but I thought that the latter was a tourist trap. I felt inevitably sad and realised why Cambodia had a depressing air about it. The scars of the Khmer Rouge (1974 – 1979) are still visible.

I found the people to be very friendly, however, they definitely have trust issues. Unfortunately, corruption is real. One often hears the term “the boss”. Someone continues to thrive on the nation’s psychological scars and ruling the locals with fear. They are free, yet prisoners in their own country. Every now and again, I would see cruelty in the actions of children and then remind myself that children are cruel anyway…

It concerns me though. Maybe it is a time bomb just lurking, waiting to explode. I’m not convinced that the survivors of the Pol Pot terror regime escaped without psychological damage. Although the families seem very close, there is no proof that any form of domestic violence has not filtered down to the next generation. The families are big - 2 to 10 children – many young children or infants. It is not compulsory for children to go to school. Most people only send children to an age which they can afford. If they cannot afford it, the children stay home. They watch over the crops and the water buffalo or sell crafts to tourists.

Overall, my impression of Cambodia is of a country battling to climb out of a historical grave and still being exploited by neighboring countries like China and Vietnam. Cambodians are peaceful people and you are almost always greeted with a smile. They seem to have little, but they are happy. They work hard, long hours for a very difficult existence. Food plays a very important role in their lives and they will eat almost everything. They don’t beg. Some of the survivors of landmine explosions will try their luck, but most of them will find different ways of generating an income. They sell, they hard-sell, but they work for a living – children and adults alike.

Johannes Kerkorrel wrote a song Blou Aarde (1992) which sums up how I feel after travelling through Cambodia. I have no illusions about this life. I hold onto hope and the belief that people are inherently good and that good will conquer evil.

En eendag sal dit beter wees.
Eendag sal ons wel verstaan,
hoekom mense soms so wreed kan wees
net om soms weer soveel meer te gee.
En die wêreld is ‘n groot blou bal,
wat stil deur die ruimte val
en ek en jy is kinders,
wees is ons gelaat
en soms vir ‘n oomblik,
kan ons mekaar se taal weer praat.

Yolanda Saayman

Hanoi, Vietnam
27 April 2010

The Hanoi Taxi Mafia is real and if you speak to travelers, 1 out of every 3 will admit to have fallen victim to these con artists. Guide books even warn you against them and advise to: take a deep breath and back away slowly…

Dannie and I arrived from Sapa off the overnight train. The train gets into Hanoi station at 05h00. We did not have a far distance to travel, but with two back-packs and hand luggage, we needed to get a taxi.

One thing that I have learned through my travels though, is to always know where you are going to and to have an idea of what it should cost you. I try to be invisible. This is easy when you are vigilant and looking after yourself, but when you have travel companions, the responsibility is not only yours anymore.

Dannie failed to follow a very clear instruction: “do not flag the book once we are on the platform.” Not being much of a morning person, I neglected to remind Dannie of his one responsibility and was handed the book on the station platform…

It was too late. We might as well have had a big sign on our foreheads stating: Here we are, take us for a ride! We were spotted like German tourists on safari in Africa – dressed in khaki safari suits and wearing iconic safari hats.

I tried to negotiate a fare – a metered taxi was promised…

I felt uneasy, but followed this man like a sheep ready to be slaughtered. When we passed the line of green and white Mai Linh taxis, I wanted to stop and get into one. The alarms were going off in my head, but I was not listening. I was awake, but my mind was not. I continued to follow this man I instinctively mistrusted. Once we got to the other side of the station, he hailed us a driver. I should have seen the sign here too – why are we getting a different taxi driver? 2 guys got into the taxi. This was not right. Why do they need 2 guys to drive us? I should have refused the ride there and then, but I didn’t. Why not? When the meter was blocked by the driver’s hand, I knew that we were going to be ripped off. I knew why there were two men in the car – extra man power was needed in case we resisted.

The meter suddenly jumped from 45,000 dong to 310,000 dong. For this time of the morning, this ride should not have cost us more than 80,000 dong. The driver then said that the road we wanted to be dropped off in, was a one-way and we had to get out in another road. There were not going to be witnesses.

He then insisted we give him the money. As if it was not enough that we paid him the hefty fee, the driver accused us of under paying him. He said that we gave him 10’s and not 100’s and insisted we give him the right amount.

I immediately assumed that Dannie had made a mistake. He was not sure either, so handed the driver a 500,000-dong note which ironically also resembles the 20,000-dong note. Of course he tried his luck again, but backed off when Dannie approached him.

At this point I was writing down the car registration number, the driver’s license number, the company name and the company telephone number.

I remember seeing a tourist getting physical with a cab driver in Bac Ha and thought, back away slowly. I also remember reading about a woman who was conned after she got a taxi ride getting off the Sapa overnight train. When she argued with the taxi driver, he beat her up. Thorntree readers/writers accused her of lying and said that she had to do something serious to provoke the driver, but I had witnessed it now for myself and even worse, experienced it for myself.

After further investigation, it would appear that there are many of these “black cabs” operating in Hanoi. Apparently it is so cheap to buy a car and have it spray-painted into a replica of any of the well-known taxi company colors, that there are plenty of them around. A car registration number has no significance in Hanoi and the driver could not be traced. Which explains why he was not phased when I wrote down all the details. The company who our driver apparently worked for, existed, but they were unable to track the driver without the unique taxi number as they have more than 100 drivers. I say unique as nothing is really unique about this number. Nothing prevents these under-handed opportunists to reproduce such a number.

What really gets to me is that everyone is aware of the problem and yet the Vietnamese government does nothing to put an end to it.

Golden lesson - NEVER drop your guard, especially not in the early morning hours when crooks know you are weary.

This only happened to us once. Thereafter, we contracted moto’s at a fixed fare and in certain cases, we used private transfers and paid a bit extra for a safe, reliable ride.

Nobody likes to be ripped off, but even the most vigilant traveler is left exposed in Hanoi.

Watch your back when you arrive off the overnight train from Sapa.

Yolanda Saayman