Here I am ensconced in the FCC (Foreign Correspondent’s Club) on the river in Phnom Penh – I feel like the BBC’s Kate Aide filing my copy and hoping to meet my deadline but just missing her trademark pearl earrings (and perhaps her posh accent)! And also, thank goodness, missing the bullets, bombs and butchery of the era when this opened in the early 90’s to an uneasy peace after years of the Pol Pot regime, followed by a long civil war. This place is really nice (see pic of view from balc). It is apparently the haunt of journalists and celebs – will let you know if Jon Simpson pops up. It’s in the centre of things, great “boutique” design room with an old bakelite telephone with a dial, but may be a bit noisy as it overlooks both the river and a really busy restaurant and bar area with tuk tuks, moto taxis and taxis plying their trade rather noisily – hey ho, just need a few more G&T’s to help me sleep. But you can tell it’s a journalist’s hotel – the mini bar is more of a maxi bar with full bottles of all spirits, no mini bottles here. The bar is upstairs and is dusty , yellow, and old colonial in feel, tired but in a great way as you feel some of its history, with ceiling fans lazily turning and squishy chairs all on an open terrace overlooking the river, with newspapers everywhere. Frankly though, I don’t think Kate’s got too much to worry about in the competition stakes – I was merrily tootling along on my 6 hour bus journey along the Tonle Sap river to its confluence with the Mekong (timetabled time was 4 ½ hours..) from Siem Reap and missing the news story of the decade – Castro’s resignation. Was enjoying an early G&T in the FCC bar when I saw it on the TV – Kate wouldn’t have made such a fundamental error. The 310 km bus ride from Siem Reap was interesting – all I can say is thank goodness for a video iPod as I could be entertained by the film story of another long bus ride, Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. And there was the most extraordinary pair of young Americans on the bus – both of them wearing full facemasks. Talking to a great Brit couple I met, Lynn and Bob, who had been chatting to them, it was the Western germs they were afraid of, not the local ones. And they had the biggest video camera you have ever seen with full microphone (but as the Brits said, in most cases, the Americans think they have the biggest of everything anyway - their words, not mine….). They were videoing everything – including the girl who decided to do an interview with one of the Cambodian passengers (she did at least take her facemask off for that bit). They will never be able to hear it over the noise of the bus engines and the Karaoke video blasting away up front. God help their relatives and friends when they get home, I’d hate to sit through that 6 hour journey again even on video! It was so bumpy it was not possible even to read a book – and a tip for next time, don’t move seats from the single at the front to a free double at the back for more space – the bumps at the back are even worse – I was literally being lifted out of my seat. But at least at the back, you couldn’t see what was probably coming directly at you on the narrow road, and you did get a feel of the general traffic conditions with the continued use of the horn and very sharp braking. But I arrived safely on said VIP bus (9US$ v 5US$ for the ordinary bus). VIP bus means 3 seats across rather than the standard 4 plus a snack (an indeterminate cold toasted sandwich) with a refreshing wipe and a bottle of water – not that much water got drunk, never sure what the “services” will be like!) Said VIP bus was also supposed to have an onboard loo, but no. To be honest such a bumpy ride would have made it impossible to use anyway. The journey was just mile after mile after mile of rice paddies with just the one town in between. All looking rather brown (the fields and the farm houses built on stilts) as this is the dry season, with the odd cow slowing down our progress. And on arriving, I braved a tuk tuk to the FCC, and felt like a proper traveller! But the whole journey was humbling in a way – it was the reverse of the journey the total population of Phnom Penh had to make one night in April 1975 when the Khmer Rouge took over and forced an immediate and complete evacuation of the city – they were told it was for 3 days but that wasn’t to be – the killing fields began.
