While in Sihanoukville, I sprouted some interesting blisters on the healing scar on my knee. I started to panic when they were getting worse, not better, so booked a bus ride back to Phnom Penh… MISSING, by the way, the only Halloween party I had seen advertised set for the next day on the 31st, which was perhaps a larger tragedy that the re-emergence of my injury. So, Margie, sorry to report, I spent Halloween watching (not scary) movies in my room. Very sad. Oh, fun sighting on the way back… I got to drive by all those “Made in Cambodia” sweatshop factories, and see all the women streaming out into the slummy neighborhoods surrounding the factories. Yay sweatshops.
Went to the hospital in Phnom Penh, they cleaned me up, put me on antibiotics, and gave me instructions to clean it. They said not to travel for a few days, so I delayed my trip to Vietnam and nestled into city life for a 5 day stay. Check out the new pictures on Phnom Penh in the picture section.
I arrived in Sihanoukville to a beach called Occheuteal and actually laughed out loud when I walked onto the beach. It was truly paradise. The cove was a very long, vast stretch of white shoreline with warm, aqua water. Restaurants and bars dotted the beach with large lounge chairs adorned with fluffy, red pillows lined up out front. Not surprisingly, this beach got hardly a mention in the Lonely Planet.
After assessing my options, I ended up at a place a bit out of my price range, but right on the beach. I decided that I didn’t want to be out by the road, since that would mean me walking alone through a dark field back to my room at night. And after taking an initial look at some of the other places on the beach where I could stay, I decided I’d be saner as well as safer if I spent the extra cash…
Abby and I arrived in Phnom Penh thinking we’d only stay a short while before Abby headed home to Chiang Mai and I took off for the beach in the south for a little R&R after our 2 week whirlwind adventure. Abby did end up going home despite fantasies of blowing off work to continue traveling, but I decided to stay and soak up the city for a few extra days. I love this place.
As most arrivals in Cambodia go, we descended into a sea of tuk-tuk drivers jumping over one another to offer us rides. Abby had a particularly amusing interaction with one (see the quotes section), but we managed to single out 2 drivers to take the two of us, Matt, and our Icelandic friends out of the madness. On our way out, Abby witnessed a man reaching into a car, grabbing a bag, running across the market, and jumping into a waiting car. People were yelling, but did nothing, and we tucked the straps of our bags around our legs.
After our wonderful boating experience (See Gilligan’s Boat Ride), Abby and I happily embraced dry land and found a nice hotel with a roof bar and restaurant in Battambang (AKA bada-bing! to Abby and me). Because we had unexpectedly wasted a day in transit, we decided to stay an extra day before continuing on to Phnom Penh.
We weren’t sure if Abby was going to make it to the Killing Fields in the city due to this change of plans, so we decided to head out to another site of Khmer Rouge atrocities outside of Battambang called the Killing Cave. We were told that tuk-tuk drivers couldn’t take the road because they frequently flipped over due to the horrible, pot-holed conditions. They assured me that a moto would be much safer. Uh huh.
Abby and I left Angkor in the morning, headed for a small town called Battambang via boat. We headed to the dock in a pick up truck that was more crowded with “Barang” (foreigners in Cambodian) than was really necessary. Just when we thought they couldn’t cram one more person in, they did, throwing their heavy backpacks over our interlocked legs. That was the first indication of what the day was going like. We were in the hands of a sadistic, cheap tourist company hell bent on cutting corners and taking those damn Barang for everything they’re worth.
We boarded a boat by the dock, and had a very similar experience to the taxi ride there. More and more tourists kept pouring in to the bottom of the boat, and when that was jam packed, they directed more tourists to the slighty rounded roof of the boat where there were no chairs, no railings, and no shade from the relentlessly hot sun. Two Russian guys took stock of the situation, grabbed their bags and took off.
The following morning, Abby and I awoke to the loudest and longest thunder I have ever heard in my life. We were convinced that either Bush had decided Cambodia was the newest target on the list de le axis de evil or that a monsoon was surely on its way. However, it was neither, this is just how Cambodia does rain.
It poured for a few hours and while we were at lunch it stopped. A tuk-tuk driver had been hovering over us the entire lunch, staring at us, watching every grain of rice that was consumed. We thought we’d ask someone else the price to Angkor Wat just on principal alone. But we ended up checking with him afterall, as no one else was around. The price was right, and he didn’t seem nearly as creepy as we anticipated once we talked to him, so off we went to the temples with “Mr. Ron”.
Our first 24 hours in Cambodia was a whirlwind of traveling. We got off the plane in Phnom Pehn, and immediately went to the taxi counter to see if there were any buses left that day headed toward Angkor. They hurriedly said yes, and started running with us to their taxi. We were driven to the bus depot where we were virtually attacked by a slew of Cambodians offering rides, bread, and other goods. We boarded a public bus shortly thereafter, and being the tallest people in the group, somehow landed tight seats over the wheels. Abby and my legs just barely fit behind the seats in front of us. I felt like Shaq in a Mini.
The first thing that stuck out as unusual to us was a naked baby boy around the age of 2 or 3 sitting with his mother on the bus. Just plain, butt naked. On a crowded bus.
We headed out into the country side shortly after we left the city, and were met by sights of rural Cambodia, I have to say, I was not expecting. It was breath-takingly beautiful, but so unlike anything I had seen before. It’s rainy season here, so everything is covered in water. Everything. There are puddles everywhere, big ponds in front of and underneath people’s homes, and vast bodies of water surrounded by rice patties on either side of the road. Anything that is not under water is bright green.
