The last few days have been pure R ‘n R in Sihanoukville. Walking into downtown, walking along the beach and reading. There’s a tiny cinema which shows all the latest films. I’m not sure that they are through the usual legal distribution channels as Slumdog Millionaire was showing. It probably had bad Cambodian or Thai subtitles and was filmed from the back of a cinema somewhere. I assumed it would be on for a week or so, but no, it’s one day only in this town so I missed it. But like the “fake” film I was able to purchase a “fake” (i.e. photocopied) book of “Q and A” which is the book the film is based on, which I really enjoyed. I’ll probably be able to buy a “fake” (i.e. pirated ) version of the film once I reach Thailand.
So it was with regret that I leave Sihanoukville behind to move towards the Thai border. 7.30am sees me up and ready for a tuk tuk to the bus station to take the VIP bus to Koh Kong, the Cambodian town on the border. And by VIP I mean twice the price of the ordinary bus, $8 for a four hour trip. It has aircon, a loo (although you’d have to be really brave or desperate to use it, the roads were exceptionally bumpy…) a bottle of water and karaoke on the tv. But at least no chickens in the aisles and everyone gets a seat. A small seat though, probably even less than BA economy – funny, if you asked me to do a four hour flight in such cramped conditions I would be quickly booking business class, but as I was already on the business class version of the bus, there was no other way to go. Actually, that’s not quite true, there is a boat that takes about the same time as the bus that does the coastal route from Sihanoukville to Koh Kong, but bearing in mind, as the boats are river boats and not meant to be ocean going, it is locally known as the “Vomit Comet”…. You can understand why I took the bus.
The journey wasn’t too bad. The bus station in Sihanoukville was all you would expect a bus station to be. Sleepy Westerners with huge backpacks, locals with chickens and beggars everywhere. We started exactly on time and the bus was full. The start was fine, it was the Phnom Penh Road which is relatively smooth, but after about an hour, we turned north on to the Koh Kong road, and that’s when the bumps started. But I should be grateful, until a year or so ago the journey took twice as long as there were four wide rivers to cross by ferry. The Thai Government have paid for four new bridges to be built, which halves the journey time. I guess they had an ulterior motive, by making the trip to the border easier, I assume they get more tourists. We turned into the National Park of the Cardamom Mountains – “an eco – tourist paradise” the signs tell me. As well as beautiful emerald green vegetation, there were a few really poor wooden tumbledown shacks along the way. I’ve no idea how these people scrape a living, the trees had been cut back about 200 metres either side of the road and a few mangy cows grazed in the red mud from the recent rain. But no sign of organised agriculture anywhere for miles and miles. Every so often the bus came almost to a halt – it was either to get in the right gear to try and power up the hill, or to get in the right low gear to stop the bus running away with itself as it negotiated steep downhill hairpin bends – I guess the driver didn’t put too much faith in his brakes…
Arriving in Koh Kong, I was the only one who actually got off the bus, everyone else stayed on and were heading straight to the border and then all points north in Thailand, some going as far as Bangkok, a hell of a trek. But by staying on the bus, did they know something I didn’t? On first glance, yes! Koh Kong looked like a one horse town out of an old Western. But instead of the one horse, there were cows and a few chickens. I had booked the Dugout Hotel, so named as it used to be owned by Doug, but no longer (think about it!). The info I had was that it was run by a guy from New Zealand, rooms had aircon and there was a pool, so it had to be good, right? Wrong! But it was handy, only 20 metres from where the bus dropped me off. Actually getting off the bus was an experience – it was as if Posh had arrived (ok – I know there is a resemblance…..) but the hordes had no cameras. I had to really fight my way through the guys wanting me to take their tuk tuk or moto and find me a hotel. It was a shame to have to disappoint them, I know I’m lazy, but even I can manage my case 20 metres to the Dugout. And as I was the only person off the only bus that stopped there that day it can’t have been good for them.
The hotel is a bit weird. The NZ guy, Grant who runs it appears a little disillusioned with life and sits in “reception” (more like his sitting room) drinking coffee watching NZ play cricket and rugby. About five rooms at the back of the reception area surrounding a little swimming pool. But at £8 a night this all seemed too good to be true. It was, sort of. The room is not one of my favourites, a bit bare but clean if not a bit smelly. Walls a bit cracked and damp. But they have a major issue with the water – i.e. there isn’t much of it. If you want a shower you have to ask them to turn on the reserve tank (but looking at the bathroom, I think I’ll give that a miss). But they have kindly left a huge bucket of water and a pan to the side of the loo so you can actually flush it (not another of Gill’s loo stories I hear you cry… ). And not only was there no shampoo, there wasn’t even any soap. There appears to be one other European couple here, and the rest are men who seem to have made some new Cambodian young friends. Methinks it’s a bit, to use the parlance, of a “knockin’ shop” - perhaps that’s what the pool’s for….. My attached pic of the pool makes it look like a rather charming boutique hotel – let me tell you, pictures can be deceiving! There are a couple of bigger more modern hotels in town (only about $20), but when I checked online, they looked a bit “Chinese” – but today, coming from the Dugout, they looked to me like the Ritz, and I bet they had running water on tap. So next time I decide to go for character rather than corporate, I may remind myself of this! There is one really swish place a few miles out of town right on the border, catering to Thai gamblers, and some of the rooms are $2000 (yes, that is thousand) a night. So I didn’t do too bad with my eight quid. There are no windows in the room, only an open grill in the bathroom so it may be mozzie heaven.
But undaunted after checking in and waiting for the torrential lunchtime storm to abate, I went for a walk. The town is basically just the one main, rather dusty street where the hotel is. A couple of lanes down takes you to the river front where the “Friendship Bridge” takes you to the Thai border. Nothing much happening apart from some slummy shack houses, chickens and dead rats. But at least they were dead – I assume the live ones only show themselves at night…. But in the midst of this nothingness an apparition appears – the Cafe Laurent on the riverside, where I greedily consume a very good café latte in very trendy surroundings. The town is being hailed as the next big tourist destination in Cambodia, so I guess this is just a bit of forward planning. There is, however, a lot more planning needed before their tourist dream comes true, as most people still only pass through here on the way to Thailand without stopping. And of course a bit more water would help….
But the town does have charm. Fortified by my latte I enter the dark bowels of the market. The usual fruit, veg, fly blown meat and clothes. But in the centre, lit by very dim lights is a veritable gold souk…. And everyone, even more than usual, as Cambodians always have a ready smile, was really nice. Kids on bikes practising their English with their hello’s, how are you’s and what is your name.
By now it was the witching hour and I was drawn to the only place in town that advertised wine. It was called Fat Sam’s. Unsurprisingly it was run by a very fat man called Sam – a Welshman from near Aberystwyth who had married a local girl and has two small children. Not one of the cleanest places – my wine was served but the glass was a bit grubby – I asked him to change it and he did – the next one was probably worse….. Perhaps the alcohol will kill the germs. But he was interesting to talk to. He appears to keep his head above water by going back to the UK a few months each year in the rainy season to earn a few bob.
Tonight I eat fish and chips (thought it best to give the salad a miss) on the pavement at the Dugout and watch the world go by. As usual, life is lived on the street here – barefoot children clutching their bottles, parents just letting them wander about, people hunched eating on those tiny plastic kid’s chairs, and young people playing a form of badminton at the side of the road by the lights of the passing motorbikes. All in all though, even with the dodgy hotel, it was an experience I wouldn’t have missed and I am glad that I didn’t do what most others do, pass through in the rush back to Thailand.
There is some currency confusion here too – I have got used to balancing dollars and riels in Cambodia – paying in one currency and receiving change in a combination of the two. But now I have to deal with three – even though I am still in Cambodia, the baht now comes into play. So now I can pay in any one of the three currencies, dollars, bahts or riels and in change I get any combination of three – it taxes the brain without a calculator to hand!
