Cambodia
(4)902
Km – 30 Days21
May – 20 June 2017
20
May - Trat, Thailand – Koh Kong, Cambodia - 106 km
My
unhurried departure was due to pouring rain. At the first break in the weather,
I was out of Trat to cycle the short distance to the Thailand/Cambodian border.
The
section between Trat and the border was particularly scenic, featuring
mountains to the one side and the coast to the other and made enjoyable riding.
Unfortunately, it was too wet to do anything but cycle, and best to push on.
The
border crossing came with the usual exit and entrance stamps. Afterwards, a
short ride took me into Cambodia and onto Koh Kong, the first Cambodian town along
the opposite side of the Koh Poi River.
In
Koh Kong, an inexpensive room gave me a bed and shower. Then, dressed in dry clothes,
I searched for a Cambodian SIM card and food. Both sounded more straightforward
in writing than what it turned out in a country where not much English was spoken.
Mercifully, restaurants generally offered pictures from which to order as I was
hungry and in no mood to flap my arms while cackling like a chicken or snorting
like a pig.
21
May – Koh Kong
An
additional day was spent in Koh Kong to catch up on outstanding matters. The
day turned out a relaxing one and little got done apart from laundry and
updating blog posts and photos.
22
May – Koh Kong – Botum Sakor – 103 km
Shortly
after pedalling out of Koh Kong, the road climbed out of the river valley and
over the Cardamom Mountains. I wheezed my way up the mountain in sweltering weather
while sweat poured out my body and into my sandals, making my feet slip right out.
Still, a slow and steady pace eventually brought me to the first high point.
Dark
clouds gathered and soon rain came gushing down. The pouring rain made a dangerous
descent as it rained so hard one could barely see. Nonetheless, I donned my
raincoat, and plastic coat flapping in the wind sped downhill at breakneck
speed, praying not to hit a pothole or an oil patch. But, unfortunately, maintenance
must’ve taken place recently, and the loose gravel by then worked its way to
the side, an accident waiting to happen. It was thus not surprising to see a
taxi in a ditch, making me even more determined to avoid the gravel at all
cost.
The
day was marred by crawling uphill, speeding downhill, across rivers, only to
repeat the process. The area was sparsely populated and offered little in the
line of facilities except a few stalls to fill water bottles.
Towards
the end of the day, one more hill remained as the path wound its way up the
mountain. Soon the tell-tale tower, typically marking the highpoint, appeared,
and one could see the valley far below. In Botum Sakor, an inexpensive room and
food allowed parking off until morning.
23
May - Botum Sakor – Otres – 135 km
The
ride to Otres was considerably more manageable, even though not completely
flat. It drizzled throughout the day, a blessing in disguise as it kept me nice
and cool. I felt strangely at home cycling past the familiar humble wooden
houses on stilts, grazing buffalo, skinny cows, and pyjama-clad
women on cycles peddling their wares.
Reaching
Route 4, the main road between Phnom Penh and Sihanoukville, the ride became a
complete nightmare. The way was narrow and busy, leaving barely any space to
cycle. Best to ride along the nomansland adjacent to the tarmac, a muddy mess
by then. It made slow going and challenging cycling. Slinking into Otres, the
bike, panniers, and I was covered in mud.
Shelly,
whom I’d met in Bangkok, invited me to stay at her place in Otres, and I was humbled
to find a massive plate of curry and rice waiting.
The
following day was spent kicking back and meeting up with Rad, whom I met in
Hanoi the previous year. It’s indeed a small world. Shelly had lived in Otres for
four years and knew practically everyone. Her house was a bohemian and social
place where there was a constant coming and going of friends. A few beers were
consumed and none of the things planned got done.
Otres
Village was one-of-a-kind and a place where Westerners who’d given up conforming
came to live. It was indeed the home of the stray cats, and this was where they
came to live and play. It made a fascinating mix of people from all over the
world with genuinely out-of-the-box ideas and thoughts. I loved every one of
them for who they were and what they stood for. Otres resembled the Wild West
of Southeast Asia as there appeared no building code or health inspectors.
Drugs were semi-legal, and there appeared no rules of any sort. The electricity
was iffy, and the water pressure non-existent. Instead, it seemed a hippie-haven
where people party throughout the night, cook what they pleased, and build
whatever they dreamt up—all making a community where several travellers come for
a day or two but stay a year or three.
Monsoon
season in Otres was a muddy mess as the village had few paved streets. For
most, life went past in a psychedelic haze as they moved from the jungle
parties to Neverland. This super relaxed hostel was where people hung out, but not
a place to stay unless you partied through the night.
My
laundry was handed in, but nothing happened fast in Otres, and although told it
would be ready in the morning, there was no laundry in sight. Fortunately, the relaxed
life in Otres made hanging around, going with the flow effortless.
28
May - Otres – Kampot – 100km
I
waited until the rain subsided, said goodbye to the lovely people of Otres and proceeded
in the direction of Kampot, said the home of the world’s best pepper. Monsoon
season and roadworks don’t make good cycle touring. There was no
real reason to stop apart from snapping a few pictures crossing rivers and houses
on stilts. It remained very much life on the river in Cambodia, both for
transport and fishing.
Of
course, I’d to buy one of Cambodia’s legendary snacks, the Nompang (baguette),
filled with all kinds of unusual ingredients. I found myself a pleasant spot
and watched people planting rice while eating half my Nompang, saving the other
half for when my ride was done. Kampot, Uptown Guesthouse, sporting ground
floor rooms, a bathroom and mosquito nets at a bargain price.
29
May - Kampot
Kampot
is a lovely place, sporting decaying old French colonial buildings as well as a
great riverside setting. The fascinating old traditional market was jampacked
with traders, but the heat was debilitating. As a result, Kampot is a strange
and contrasting place. “Happy Pizza” joints and French-style coffee shops lined
the streets, while Cambodian ladies traded from mobile carts.
The
French baguette, or Nompang, is stuffed with spicy sliced pork, pate, pickled
carrots, papaya, coriander, and cucumber. At times, it’s consumed topped with condensed
milk. I prefer the spicy version, but why not bread and condensed milk if one
can eat a chocolate-filled doughnut?
You
often see words misspelt because the Latin alphabet means as little to the
Cambodians as the Abugida script means to me. Eventually, I ended up at my
abode, hopped on the bike and rode out to inspect a few nearby caves. The ride
was more interesting than the caves. I passed ladies on bikes, returning home
from selling their wares at the morning market. They were jovial and friendly,
laughing and talking. What a difference from the Western world where stoic-faced
people sat in morning traffic. Equally cheerful men on motorbikes were on their
way to the market, squealing pigs tied on the back. School kids on bicycles
ambled along, and small kids called, “Hello farang!” from their stilted homes.
30
May - Kampot - Guesthouse – 110 km
From
Kampot, my chosen route led north in the direction of Phnom Penh. The sky was a
gorgeous blue, rice paddies were filled to the brim after the monsoon rains;
water buffalo waddled in ponds and cows grazed on the nomansland next to the
road—all in all, a perfect day. I’m sure this’s what people refer to when they
say, “I was in my happy place”. Markets sold exciting items, and dirt tracks veered
off to mysterious destinations.
The
way led past friendly monks doing their food rounds, welcoming ladies selling
watermelons and colourful temples. Kids, returning home from school, nervously clung
to each other, seeing a stranger on a bicycle heading their way. Meat vendors
laughingly pointed out buffalo penis. Gosh, they indeed eat the entire animal!
A
strong wind picked up, dark clouds gathered, and big raindrops started falling,
making a quick escape into the first available guesthouse. They must’ve seen me
coming as I was charged a tad more than the place was worth. Nevertheless, they
prepared a lovely Cambodian meal (rice, stir-fried pork and ginger, topped with
a fried egg and fiery chillies).
31
May-14 June - Guesthouse – Phnom Penh – 40 km
A
short but busy ride took me to Phnom Penh. It’s never easy getting in or out of
Phnom Penh. The going was dreadfully slow
and the traffic horrendous. Still, it remained amazing what all one can hook onto
a motorcycle and equally astonishing what a bicycle can handle.
I
slowly weaved through the traffic and onto the old traditional backpacker’s
“Boeng Kak” area. Unfortunately, the lake which made the site popular was sold
and then filled in, causing the area’s demise. Still, one or two super budget
places remained. I loved the back streets, street art and weird and lovely
“long-termers”. Grand View Guesthouse, without the grand view, was my abode of
choice. Nevertheless, the room rate was super cheap at $5 a night. It didn’t
take long to meet a bunch of lovely people, and the 15 people around the table were
from 13 different countries!
The
next day, I handed in my Panasonic Lumix camera to be repaired. I further applied
for a Chinese visa, seeing the camera would take a few days.
Cambodian
elections were coming up and I was astounded at the amount of money spent on
elections. The Cambodian People’s Party (the ruling party) appeared well
supported even in the face of widespread corruption. Although hundreds and
thousands of people took to the streets to show their support for their
respective parties, the ordinary man in the street still pushed his cart along,
hoping to sell enough to feed a family. It’s a fascinating country where a large
part of the population lived in squalor. At the same time, the Cambodian Mafia
drove Rolls Royce’s.
Eventually,
everything was done, from fixing the camera to receiving the Chinese Visa and a
3-month Thai Visa. But, unfortunately, the Thai Visa wasn’t as easy in Phnom
Penh as it used to be. Once a person had more than three Thailand stamps in the
passport, you were required to visit the Embassy in person, showing an
application form, a flight ticket out of the country, as well as bank
statements.
15
June - Phnom Penh – Kampong Chhnang – 97 km
I
said my goodbyes to the lovely people of Grand View Guest House and all the
people I met there.
When
returning home after a holiday, generally people remark, “There’s no place like
home”. I feel the same about getting on the bike after a long layoff. There’s
no place like the open road! So pleasant was it there was practically no photo
stops. My only stops were at coconut and sugarcane juice vendors. Still, I marvelled
at the interesting goods for sale at markets and watched farmers bathe their
cattle in rivers. I smiled at the familiar “Hellos” from kids and waved at
surprised old ladies as I cycled past. In Kampong Chhnang, Ly Hour Guest House made
easy overnighting.
16
June - Kampong Chhnang – Pursat – 96 km
The
previous day’s euphoria disappeared somewhere along the bumpy road, a road that
left me slightly irritated. Nevertheless, the day wasn’t all bad, even though
blistering hot. En route, my path passed the Andoung Russey pottery factory. The
way thus crammed with heavily laden carts taking the produce to the market. Rice
farmers welcomed the recent rains, and the rice was a brilliant green. However,
for the most part, rice was in nursery beds awaiting replanting.
En
route, people sold fermented veggies, and artists made Buddha statues. The way
was busy and narrow, and a significant part of the ride was on the dirt section
next to the road. Rolling into Pursat was thus a relief, although the wobbly
ceiling fan did little to cool me. At least I could see the sunset over another
day in Cambodia.
17
June - Pursat – Battambang – 107 km
Each
day I was astounded at the things witnessed. Of course, people worldwide do
things in totally different ways, and we all make do with what’s available. We
eat what’s on hand and plant what the soil and the weather allow. Still, it was
the different forms of transport that remained fascinating. No matter how much
time I spent in Cambodia, the motorbike demanded the most respect.
Cup
noodles are not the best supper when cycling, and I soon became hungry. To the
amazement of a roadside eatery, a farang stopped and pointed to the soup! Delicious,
but each mouthful consumed was watched with great interest. The constant
attention made me wonder about the ingredients.
Battambang
is a lovely town sporting several old and interesting buildings. It featured a lively
market and a peaceful riverside location. I bought a baguette from a lady
selling food from a shoulder pole and didn’t question the ingredients as I was
hungry. But, there are times when it’s better not to know! Battambang offered plenty
of interest, and staying an extra day was easy.
19
June – Battambang – Poi Pet – 114 km
The
stretch between Battambang and the Thai/Cambodian border wasn’t fascinating,
and I considered taking an alternative route.
Before
turning off, I came upon a wedding procession and observed a fascinating piece
of Cambodian culture. I learned a traditional Khmer wedding is one of the genuinely
joyous occasions for a Khmer family and typically lasts from three days to an
entire week. It’s a grand affair, full of colour and festivity, as well as
steeped in tradition. Musicians play throughout the day using traditional
instruments, and the couple dress like royalty. The bride may change her outfit
several times a day. Unlike Western weddings, guests are usually highly
animated during the ceremonies, and elders typically explain the significance
of the various customs to the younger generation. You may stand up and leave
the room if you need to stretch your legs. Guests freely move in and out during
ceremonies, which isn’t considered rude. In the beginning, the bride
customarily waits at her parent’s house while the groom gathers a procession of
his family and friends. The procession symbolises the journey of prince Preah
Thong to meet his bride, princess Neang Neak two symbolic personas in Khmer culture. The
groom’s procession approaches the bride’s home, bearing platters of gifts,
usually fruits and Khmer desserts, and is led by a band of musicians and
singers. Traditionally, the mai ba (a well-respected member of the bride’s
family) comes out to greet the procession. The different fruits
and desserts are counted – the more, the better.
After
chatting to family members, I continued and discovered the way crowded by the
usual weird and wonderful modes of transport. Then, at a coconut juice seller,
I met another cyclist. Husan was from Turkey and planned to cycle for a year.
Stalls
sold the ever-popular rice cooked in bamboo and sausages (presumed buffalo meat).
I snapped the last few pics of Cambodian kids yelling with pleasure before rolling
into the border town of Poi Pet. A room at Phnom Pich Guesthouse, right on the
main road, made me realise certain things will continue to surprise me no
matter how far or wide I travel. I was clearly the only one not using the
communal comb and sandals.
20
June – Poi Pet, Cambodia – Sa Kaeo, Thailand – 85 km
By
morning a short cycle led from the dusty border town of Poi Pet to the
Cambodia/Thai immigration. The border was chaotic, with cross-border traders
pushing and pulling produce-laden carts. Foot passengers formed long queues
while motorised traffic weaved randomly, switching from right-hand drive to
left-hand drive. However, being on a bicycle was an absolute pleasure. I
zig-zagged my way through the horrendous traffic and was waved to the front of
the queue.