There’s such a lot of world to see

The next morning meant time for Matt and I to say goodbye – I was carrying on east along the coast, and he was heading back to Phnom Penh to catch a flight. So it was farewell to my fellow boat-trip survivor, party person extraordinaire and scrabble champion (God, it was tough to type that – perhaps you could just forget I said it?), who is now a big chunk of my happy memories of Cambodia. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – there are so many wonderful, interesting, intelligent, kind, funny people in this world, and I’m lucky enough to be meeting tons of them on this trip.

I’d read a bit about Kampot, but not a huge amount – I knew it was one of the last places that tourists started visiting in Cambodia, being one of the last Khmer Rouge strongholds (to this day, there are quite a few KR still in these here hills). It seemed to get similar reviews to Battambang – a charming lakeside town – so I wasn’t holding my breath, to be honest, what with Battambang being a bit of a let-down. But first, I had to get there.

I often wonder if it’s at all possible for me to have a completely uneventful journey. I swear, though, I’m not making these things up (I know that some of you believe I never got the nerve to leave the country and so am holed up at Manchester Airport Travel Lodge, hunched over a laptop, using a combination of Google and Photoshop to fake my journey). The best and quickest way to get to Kampot was to get a seat in a share taxi. I could have the whole car for $25, or I could have one seat for $5. Seeing how chocka these cars get (none of this four-person max in a taxi nonsense they have back home), I asked if I could have two seats, for $10, which would mean having the whole front passenger seat to myself. Usually there are two people in there. This was agreed, no problem. So I was sitting there like Lady Muck, enjoying all my space, when the back started to slowly fill up, and fill up. Not only the back seat, but also the boot. I’d put my backpack in there as I was the first in the car, but soon the boot was wedged open and two double sized mattresses were balanced on top of the open boot, tied down with a flimsy looking rope. It was, I suppose, the ultimate boy racer spoiler. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had taken off in a big gust of wind, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang style. Soon there were six people on the back seat, and me on the front seat, and I expected to set off soon. But no. Apparently there was room for one more passenger – sharing the driver’s seat. He was squashed up against the door, and the driver was leaning right over on to my side, controlling the pedals with the tips of his toes. Road safety rocks! These people would beat the world record for “Number of Cambodians in a taxi”, I’m sure of that, so get me Norris McWhirter’s phone number. (Or did he die? I’m never sure).

At the regulation lunch stop -despite the journey only being 2 hours long – I stayed in my seat, loathe to risk losing it, and so carried on reading my book. Some little girls came up to try to sell me some fruit, but became engrossed in the pictures in my book. No, no, it wasn’t a picture book per se, I’m pleased to report my reading level is now past the need for pictures – but it was “Billy”, the biography of Billy Connolly. The pictures they were looking at were of Billy’s beautiful, intelligent, and very, very, very blonde wife Pamela Stephenson. I was therefore highly amused when they pointed at the pictures and asked if it was me – I can’t think of anyone who I bear less resemblance to. Still, it was deeply flattering!

Against all the odds, including a heavy rainstorm during which the driver didn’t slow down one jot (perhaps he couldn’t reach the brakes?), we arrived in Kampot. I could instantly see it was a delightful little town, full of the sort of charm that was promised, but never delivered, in Battambang. The river runs sleepily through it, and most of the place is just set up for locals. Tourism is only just on the move here, which makes it quiet, friendly – in short, everything I needed to recharge my batteries, which were running pretty low. Perfect.

I got a room in the Blissful Guesthouse (and the name don’t lie), and spent the rest of the day doing not much at all. Just what the doctor ordered, methinks. The Guesthouse has been one of my favourite places I’ve stayed on the trip so far – the rooms are basic, but lovely and bright, and the people are so very, very friendly – not in the OTT Monkey Republic way, though, but just in a relaxed, feel right at home way.

The next day was an early start. I’d booked a trip to the Bokor Hill Station, built in the 1920s as a luxury hotel, but abandoned because of war. It was then taken over by the KR and used as a base and a prison, and was the scene for a good few battles. It’s now been deserted for years, and is just the shell of a few buildings. To add to the eerie nature of the place, because of the altitude, mists frequently come rolling in through all the open windows and door, thick enough to seem like a physical presence. I tells ya, I’m not a superstitious person, but being up there certainly caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.

Mind you, getting up there was an adventure in itself (it would be, wouldn’t it?) There were 10 of us in the group, and right from the start we were getting on so well and laughing pretty much constantly. Good job, really. We were in a pick-up truck that could seat 8 of us in the back, while two of the guys went inside with the driver. Weren’t they the lucky ones? As soon as we were on the road up the hill, the path got narrow and very bumpy – it’s getting on for 100 years old, and a combination of the ravages of war and a lack of maintenance means that it’s a series of potholes, loosely joined by a spot of road. We kept getting thwacked in the arms and heads by passing branches, so we had to devise a system whereby the people at the front shouted “duck!” and we all did. Closest thing I’ll ever get to the SAS. This was tough enough, until suddenly one of the girls said “Oh my god, did you see the size of that spider?” Now this girl has spent two months living in a jungle, so we were guessing she wasn’t a cissy when it came to spiders. Soon, though, we saw what she was taking about – huge, absolutely massive, Bird Spiders (so called because they eat birds). On the side of the road they were bad enough, but when the webs strung right across the road – well, let’s just say we got very, very friendly with the people sitting opposite us in the pick-up – our heads were flat on our knees, and our laughter had that slight touch of hysteria about it. We turned to our guide and asked, “But are they poisonous?” “Hmm”, he replied, “A little bit”. Not the answer we were looking for. Turns out they probably won’t kill you but even so, the day you get bitten by a Bird Spider – not the best day of your life, for sure. After that, every little bug that landed in the truck had us shrieking like little girls, and waving our hands around. And I’m not even afraid of spiders but these bad boys – I wouldn’t cuddle up to one, that’s for sure. Although I’m glad to report that I held a stick insect that the driver found, and only one of the other guys would. I kept stum on the fact that we used to keep some as pets in Quality Street bottles, and so was very used to them. In fact, I went so far as to big up my bravery. Sharks – no, but Stick Insects – bring them on!

We went for an hour’s trek through the jungle at the top of the hill, which was amazing fun in an Indiana Jones way (although I was concerned by the axe that the guide took – there are a few tigers out there), and we got to see some of the bird spiders really close up, including virtually doing a commando roll underneath some of the webs, they were that low. We also had to be on the lookout for leeches – our guide got one, and one of the Canadian guys had one go down his shoe, but got it before it bit him. None of them seemed to want my sweet blood though. Either that, or there was none left after the mozzies had been at me.

Next stop was lunch (a delicious vegetable curry, one of the best things I’ve had here), and then we were free to explore. The place was a photographer’s dream, so I’m afraid I showed the customary lack of constraint. The place is incredibly atmospheric, all rust and crumbling walls and moss and just – well, just plain walls. Every single thing, light fittings, the lot, has been stripped out of the place, just leaving it bare. Likewise is the church (it was a Catholic church before it was abandoned, so I’m not sure on whether it still counts as consecrated land or not) – just eerie and sad.

The journey down was just as much fun as the journey up, although this time, the two guys who had been in the front previously were up in the back with us, swapping with three others. They hadn’t seen any of the spiders on the way up, so, as we ducked one time (it becomes second nature after a while), we heard a shriek. The guy sitting next to me, Sun, started laughing his head off and I asked him who was freaking out. “The rookies”, he replied.

Back at the guesthouse we all ran for the shower, a particular relief to find out there were definitely no spiders anywhere on my person, and sat down for a few well-deserved drinks, congratulating ourselves on surviving the creepy crawlies, and the creepy buildings alike. It was truly a marvellous day, incredible fun, and I would recommend it in an instant to anyone coming to this part of the world. A real highlight.

I spent another couple of days in Kampot, but made an executive decision to do not much whatsoever. I became a big fan of the hammocks at the guesthouse, and spent many a happy hour just hanging out (pun intended). We watched the England v Ecuador game at the guesthouse, although I think I was being punished for missing the Sweden game – due to a heavy storm, the reception on the tv went down. I had my phone though, and Michael and CL became the official football correspondents for a whole room of people, sending me updates like the stars they are. Better than John Motson, and at least twice as good looking. Thanks, guys, it was appreciated by a whole load of people, not just me.

And you know what? For the first time in weeks, I’m bang up to date with this blog. In a few minutes I’m going to set off for Kep, about 12 miles further east along the coast, and then I’m going to try and stay on Rabbit Island for a night or two. Off I go. Until next time… Look after yourselves – and each other.

Tags: Cambodia, Travel

This entry was posted on Sunday, June 25th, 2006 at 9:13 pm and is filed under Cambodia, Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.