Holiday!

A week's break feels like an enormous luxury. Time spent in Phnom Penh so far has been breathless and full. It feels like every lung and brain space has been stretched out of shape by new experiences. My head is heavy with a new internal guide - pulled together quickly to help me function in this new country. Learning how to do the basics (like haggling, arguing over tuk-tuk fares, ordering the right coffee, asking Khmer colleagues for information) is exhausting.

This last week was spent with two of 2008's Cambodian therapists. They've let us observe them at work in the Cleft Clinic, encouraged us to use new approaches when trying to get children to produce brand new sounds, and shown us an alternative view of the city. A last evening out to thank them for their help was spent with a new lighter feeling within - it is beginning to feel like we are finding our own space here and the stresses of the last week seem to stretch right out along the Mekong and fall off the horizon. I relax on our walk home and enjoy the statues and motos and people flocks and curved rooves, all misting together to create a visual cacophany in the streets.

The following day we are leaving the city I've just started to feel comfortable in. We find ourselves on a tuk-tuk to the Central Market which is crammed with traffic. Our transport north is waiting for us in the midst of the mayhem. Although it says clearly on it's red blazed bus ribs that we are off to Ho Chi Minh we are assured that in 7 hours we'll arrive in Battambang.....

I'm glad to find that magic bus sleeping powers have not deserted me and I spend the time leaning crookedly against a window. It's definitely a full giraffe-neck gap away from being a comfortable leanto so it's a relief to finally arrive.

On first impressions, Battambang is not a destination city in its own right, despite being Cambodia's 2nd largest. Perhaps the continued monsoon clouds that make the sky silty and grey don't shed the best light, but at best Battambang is slightly worn down, criss crossed by muddy streets and filled with the usual mass of mobile phone shops. It's a place you feel like you might need to escape from, and our plans for a 3 day stay shrink to 1.

Country escape is planned for the next day. When we wake, there is sun and light and brightness bleaching out the shadowy grimness of the day before. We hire motos for the day to take us to visit some temple sites in the province. I am nervous and choose the older, most sensible looking driver. After 20kms have melted away, the firm road surfaces become rusty red mud, flecked with potholes brimming with russet soup. This being a 'main' road larger cars often blast past, unconcerned with finding a safe, solid route through the deep gaps in its surface. At these unfortunate times my moto driver refuses to take evasive action and I am pretty quickly covered in mud from head to foot. Only down one side, mind. The other side was being saved for the way back.

Despite the mud, we arrive unscathed at our first temple destination set high on a hillside. Gold towers prickle up through the green jungle like the secret spines of old mountains. We walk up the trail to the top, passing a site where thousands of people were killed by the Khmer Rouge. Music is blared from the temple entrance- it's the wind up music box swirl we are used to from Phnom Penh. We stop to take photos of a giant gold buddha who looks like he is counting on his huge gold hands, then carry on up the hillside. We reach the top to find steps filled with people come to pray. A festival is taking place where families must come to the temple and give offerings to appease their ancestors. These include rice balls which they throw at a wall. The ancestors who might cause trouble need to be helped to go to a good place. It looks like an intense business, so we creep down the staircase tipped by two giant snake heads and start our descent.

Not yet templed out, we find ourselves climbing up steep steps to visit another, more ancient site. It's noon, and the temple towers appear crumble-edged like a mirage. On closer inspection they are tumble-down, with gaps and tears where the oldest of bricks have fallen to form hazardous skirts at their base. These four towers are claimed by Battambangians to be the inspiration for the famed Angkor Wat - we'll be there in a few days to carry out a comparison.

It's a relief to be able to wander out into bright fresh fields and through a papaya orchid after the scorching temple climb. Battambang province is incredibly green and fresh from the rains, so lush your eye leaps out to roll over every twist of land and every curve of tree. We take in the easy beauty for a while until our thoughts are darkened by the possible threat of landmines. Whilst not far from the path, we scurry back to it, legs taking nervous steps with shaky toes.

Later, our moto guide tells us Battambang province was one of the most mined in the country. Specialist rehab centres have been set up to help victims. Sadly he tells us too that he cannot think of a family he knows who did not lose someone to the Khmer Rouge.

The history of this province is bloody beneath its soft and welcoming green.