Cruising through Cambo

This is another photo-less entry. The accompanying photos will come once I return to BKK, but you'll have to use your imagination for now.

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After staying in Siem Reap for three nights, where I thoroughly absorbed the ancient power of Angkor Wat, Rob and I moved on to Phnom Penh, the capital, and biggest city in Cambodia.

But first - a quick word about the roads in Cambodia. My friend Ian, who worked for the Cambodia Daily newspaper in Phnom Penh for a year, had told me extensively about how the roads are not paved and get muddy and nasty during the rainy season and are filled with giant potholes. I had a picture of it in my head from his descriptions, and it turned out to be worse that I had imagined. It really was that bad. Every few seconds everyone in the bus would go flying in the air after hitting crater after giant crater, or would be thrown out of their seats because the driver was swerving to get out of the way of one.

Back to Phnom Penh.

It was wild. There were few traffic lights, many rickshaws, endless streams of motorcycles, disregarded mud paths that count as streets, mounds of garbage dumped on the mud paths that count as streets, people with limbs blown off from landmines or eyes cut out from the legacy of the Khmer Rouge, battalions of prostitutes, in-your-face children trying to sell you everything you don't really need, "happy" pizza parlors ready to serve you a pie that will fry your brains out, along with sweltering heat that seemed more intense than even in Bangkok.

Heart of darkness, indeed.

Our hotel, which was actually pretty nice, also seemed to serve as a brothel. At least dozen or so young females looking less than 18 and scantily-clad, would greet us each time we went in by blowing kisses and saying "Helloooooo handsome!" which was disturbing, not flattering.

And yes, we did see some pedophiliac looking older dirtbags holding hands with them walking up and down the stairs in the hotel and around town. Very sad and nauseating.

There is an outlaw spirit pervading the city, as it is well documented that the police can easily be bribed. Drugs are a problem too, specifically the Asian speed-meets-crack drug which has plagued the region, Yaba. While I have only heard about Yaba, as I haven't seen it for myself, I did in fact meet an ex-pat junkie, who introduced himself to Rob and me while we were eating a late lunch. He was a nice enough guy, but clearly too slow to by any normal standard.

He .... would .... talk .... like .... this .... and .... it .... was .... strange .... but .... he .... was ... also .... kind .... of .... amusing ....

He raised our curiosity and we wanted to know what his deal was.

What we gathered from our first conversation with him was that he is a photojournalist from the midwestern part of the U.S. And why did he want to hang with strangers? He said that the ex-pat scene was small and he wanted to hang out with some new Americans and he told us about some fashion show that was going on that evening and invited us to come along. Sounded good.

So the plan was to go to his place first, which we were interested in doing so we could figure out what his deal was, and then go see the fashion show.

Well, we figured out his deal quickly. Within five minutes of arriving at his place that night, he started sniffing heroin ("China White"), which definitely was creepy. But he had a nice view of the river and city from his balcony though, so we stayed out there while he medicated.

He really was the quintessential junkie: living in the third world as a talented artistic photographer in a dark artistic heroin chic-y kind of way, looking real skinny and constantly lying terribly. But for all of the negatives, he was a nice guy who took us to a cool party we never would have known about (we took separate motorcycles rather than jump on the back of his!) After the party, we ended up at a cool bar on the Tonle Sap River until the wee hours, when we met our faithful moto drivers outside the club (they waited outside everywhere we went, along with all of the other moto drivers, all of whom would basically swarm anyone leaving a bar, club, hotel or museum to get the fare).

It was sad seeing so much prostitution along with the begging and people deformed by war and past political purges, but there was a spirit of survival that seemed to prevail. And as destitute as it was, the people were very nice and mostly wore smiles.

One positive thing I saw was a non-profit restaurant that was part of an orphanage where the kids seemed much happier and in better spirits than the kids I saw begging with their mothers or fathers. There are many people there, either locals, or ex-pats working in NGOs or otherwise, who are trying to make a difference and that was uplifting to see.

We were only in Phnom Penh for two days but it seemed like two weeks. We also went to some basic sights: the temples, the royal palace, the main market, but there is more to see and I'm looking forward to going back and exploring it further. While it may have been rough and difficult, it still had a good spirit and was fascinating in its own way.

But we wanted to leave the city quickly to get to Cambodia’s beaches on its southern coast. We read in the guidebook that they were nice and up and coming, and everyone we spoke to said what a great respite they were after being in Phnom Penh.

Well, they weren't. If you plan to go to Cambodia, skip the beaches, at least for the next ten years, because they have a far way still to go. The most happening beach town, Sihanoukville, was broken down, depressing and filled with garbage, but at least attracted a crowd. In the other towns, like Kep, there was nothing redeeming and no one was there. The coast used to boast a slew of happening French beach getaways but they were heavily destroyed during the civil war and were never properly fixed up again. They might serve well as a backdrop for a photo study, but not for a relaxing vacation on the beach. But we met a backpacker woman who loved it and stayed ten days, so I guess it's what you make of it and get out of it.

The worst place, in our experience, was Kep's offshoot, Rabbit Island, which sounded nice in the guidebook. But where we were dropped off was filled with garbage and there was literally nowhere to go (and no one was there but us and a Dutch guy we met on the bus), because other than the few scattered bungalows off the beach it was an island filled with thick jungle (and its malarial!). We would have left right away but after we arrived by boat in the late afternoon, it started pouring. The bunglaow was also the only place to get food, which they heavily overcharge for, because guests have no other choice if they want to eat. Our bungalows’ roofs leaked too, adding to the misery.

But after the boat back to the mainland, a moto ride to the next major spot on the road, Kampot (another ghost town), we rode a grimy mini-bus to Sihanoukville, first stopping somewhere in the middle of nowhere where we (maybe ten of us) were forced to switch and pile into a dirty greasy stationwagon (I sat in the trunk with my legs hanging out with the back open). The next day, after deciding Sihanoukville was not for us, we took a moto in the pouring rain to a greasy cockroach-filled, dilapidated ferryboat to the Thailand border, where we immediately noticed the big difference between the countries. After Cambodia, I must say that I respect Thailand's infrastructure more than ever and it felt good to come back and practice my Thai with the fun-loving people of this country and eat the food I enjoy so much!

And we landed on Ko Chang, a great island with gorgeous beaches, cool, cheap accomodations, a chill vibe and ultra-relaxing. So we were able to unwind after our Cambodian capers. But like I said, despite the difficulties, I'll be back to see more of the Khmer culture soon enough.

So stay tuned for photos! And please comment if you have ever been there and agree/disagree with my assessments.