Phnom Penh and saying goodbye to Cambodia

The bus down to the Cambodian capital Phnom Penh was pretty easy going and when we arrived in the city and disembarked we had the usual onslaught of tuk-tuk drivers clamouring for our business. 

As I was still a little fragile after my recent illness, we'd booked ourselves a room in another comfortable-looking hotel and so had the most persuasive/relentless driver take us from the bus station to our new accommodation.

The journey was an interesting introduction to Phnom Penh traffic. We held on tight to our luggage as our driver squeezed between other vehicles, whizzed across roundabouts and dodged precarious pedestrians. 

We distracted ourselves with the incredible sights around us: a man and woman on a moped, the latter of whom was holding over her head the drip belonging to the toddler squeezed between them; the moped with the half-dozen or so plucked chickens strung over the handlebars; the in-tuk-tuk advertisements for trips to such places as the historic 'Killing Fields' and local shooting ranges (illustrated with photos of smiling tourists toting RPGs).

We arrived at the Lucky Star hotel unscathed - always a nice suprise! - and checked into a big double room with all the modcons we needed. 

The next day we ventured out to do a little sightseeing. I was feeling a lot better and although we were still taking things relatively easy, it was great to feel free to explore again.

First stop, after breakfast, was the Independence Monument, which sits in the middle of a busy intersection. It was built in the 1950s to commemorate Cambodia's new freedom from the French and there's not really anything to do there, but the weather was beautiful that day and we spent some time walking in the park near the monument.

We then had a bit of a sweaty walk to find a tuk-tuk (never a difficult task unless you're actually looking for one) to take us to the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum.

The museum is the latest guise of a group of buildings that during the Khmer Rouge regime of the late 1970s was converted from a high school into Security Prison 21 (S-21). During its darkest days it was a place of torture and murder - an estimated 20,000 people died here under horrific conditions - and is now used to educate visitors about the atrocities that the Cambodian people were subjected to. I'm glad we went, as it wouldn't have felt right being in Phnom Penh without learning about what had happened here such a short time ago. We'd spent time among the stunning ancient history of the Khmer people around Angkor, and it was important for us to know about the more recent history that has left just as tangible a legacy on Cambodia as those breathtaking temples. But it wasn't exactly a fun day out for all the family. 

The museum is bleak and stark and terrifying and teaches us about the darkest possibilities of the human condition. There were parts that I wasn't able to stomach, and so I spent a while sitting in the open while Dave continued around the exhibits, but the place is so imbued with the echoes of what went on there, and what I'd already seen had made such a vivid impression, that it wasn't possible to escape the realities just by sitting quietly in the sunshine - rather it gave me time to reflect on how Cambodia has come so far in such a short time after losing so much.

We left emotionally exhausted and decided that that was enough sightseeing for one day. The Killing Fields were another option, but we knew from the guidebooks what it was going to entail and so made the decision that we'd immersed ourselves enough in the country's dark past. 

As we rode back to our hotel in a tuk-tuk we picked up outside the museum the Cambodian traffic craziness struck again and we were involved in our second crash! Not quite as dramatic and life threatening as our last one thank goodness, but our driver wasn't paying enough attention, accelerated too soon at a green light and smashed his wing mirror into the head of an old guy on a motorcycle (fortunately he was wearing a helmet). As our driver and the injured party - along with a little boy who was on the front of his bike - pulled round the nearest corner to discuss the incident, Dave and I gently extricated ourselves from the situation by leaving the tuk-tuk and walking off down the road before jumping into the next one that came along.

That evening, desperately in need of some comfort from the extremities of life 'on the road', we headed to a place called Freebird Bar & Grill. The diner is decked out with plenty of Americana and has a good atmosphere. We drank draft beer and chowed down on the free peanuts and popcorn that the friendly staff kept bringing to our table, not to mention the tasty burger and chili we had. In total our bill came to about US$16 - you always pay more for Western food than you would for eating local dishes but in this instance it was so worth it. We left very full and satisfied.

The next day we headed to the Central Market to do a little shopping. We found a place for some coffee to give us a much-needed morning boost before heading in to tackle the sprawling complex of stalls. Everything from flowers, fresh fruit and veg, meat and fish, clothes, homewares, jewellery, souvenirs, toys... you name it! 

There were even women taking advantage of the crowds by carrying round pairs of bathroom scales and charging people to weigh themselves! 

I invested in a pair of 'Ali Baba' pants - baggy, floral, low-crotched trousers that are ubiquitous amongst the backpacker community and more importantly that were long and comfortable enough to cover the still quite angry-looking red marks on the backs of my legs that the shingles had left behind.

One really nice surprise that came about while we were in Phnom Penh was that my cousin, uncle and aunt were coincidentally in town for a wedding. It was really exciting to arrange a meet-up in such an exotic, far-flung place and also really good to see familiar friendly faces after what had already been about two and a half months away from home.

We met up for dinner with Andrea, Trevor and Muriel at a yummy restaurant called Anjali near the riverfront and had a good catch-up over bottles of Anchor lager and plates of stir-fried dishes like chili and lemongrass chicken. Andrea had brought us an incredibly welcome care package comprising a huge box of Nurofen Plus (you can't get codeine in Cambodia!), a squeezy tub of Marmite and a bottle of Doom Bar ale. Oh sweet purveyor of blissful treats, how you spoiled us!

After dinner, us kids split off to a nearby bar for more beers, parent-free chat, and so Dave could watch that evening's Arsenal v QPR match. Such fun, random times! At about 2am we decided a short walk down to the Royal Palace was a good idea, as we weren't able to visit during the days as King Sihanouk was currently lying in state. The grounds were still full of people paying their respects even at that hour. 

Then it was back into another tuk-tuk to take us to our respective hotels. When we'd dropped Andrea off and were barrelling down the near-deserted roads we passed a sight that, like our two RTAs, had seemed kind of unavoidable since we'd first set wheel on a Cambodian road. A man had been knocked off his bike and killed and our tuk-tuk driver thought it appropriate at that moment to slow down as we passed the poor man's body, thereby joining the multitude of people who had paused to take photos on their mobile phones. Eyes shut, I shouted 'Please... GO!' and he stepped on the gas again, my first ever sighting of a dead body seared onto my retinas. 

Phnom Penh was our last stop in Cambodia, a country that has relatively recently undergone horrors that wiped out huge chunks of its population. This isn't the place for an in-depth analysis of a nation's scarred psyche, yet it does seem to have a bizarre disregard for keeping its citizens safe, considering everything they've been through to survive. More than anywhere I've been, Cambodia left me feeling nerve-jangled and harassed. It's a beautiful country, but nowhere else have I ever genuinely feared for my life whenever stepping outside of the safety of my hotel room!

A thriving tourist industry fuelled by stunning ancient temples, cheap entertainment, good weather and a fascinating culture working to reestablish itself in the aftermath of tragedy, isn't showing any signs of slowing and I'm sure the country has a bright future; we had a lot of great experiences in Cambodia and met some truly lovely people, but I do have to admit that I was kind of relieved to say goodbye.

Temples of Angkor: Day 2

Sunrise over Angkor Wat is one of those activities lauded as unmissable by the travel community and it was something we were both keen to experience. 

At 5.45am we were in the reception area of our guesthouse waiting for Barang to pick us up in his tuk-tuk, and listening to the drunken nonsense coming from a group of gap year kids who were yet to go to bed.

At that time of the morning the roads were quiet but once we were at Angkor Wat we joined throngs of tourists lining the shore of one of the pools facing the the temple - the prime spot for viewing the sun breaking over the tops of the towers. 

It was quite an overcast morning, so the sky wasn't perfect for a particularly spectacular sunrise, and any romance or wonder was largely intruded upon by the literally hundreds of jostling snap-happy tourists and the constant drone of the hawker patter; people selling postcards, scarves or trying to get you into their cafes for breakfast.

However, the temple did look stunning and it was just possible to lose oneself in the spectacle long enough to make it worthwhile being up that early.

We decided to have a bite to eat at one of the many cafes that line the bank of the pool. Someone in Cambodia has obviously done their homework on the most appealing celebrities that no Westerner can resist, and each cafe was named after one of these stalwarts of pop culture: Lady Gaga, J-Lo, 007, Angelina Jolie. In the end we opted for 'Justin Bieber', for no other reason than the extra lengths to which they had gone by hiring the Cambodian spitting image of the eponymous popster (he had a floppy hair-do). 

After a couple of distinctly average cheese baguettes and intensely sweet coffees, we felt ourselves sufficiently fuelled for another day of temples and went back to find Barang and our trusty transportation.

The next place we were to visit was Banteay Sanray, another massive temple complex made up of long, steep staircases and imposing towers. As it was still so early, we had the place to ourselves and really enjoyed the peace and quiet after the hustle of sunrise at Angkor Wat.

Once we'd finished at Banteay Sanray, it was time to head out of the main Angkor complex and travel about 30km from Siem Reap to the similarly named Banteay Srei. 

It's widely seen as the most beautiful of the Angkor temples, and the name means 'Citadel of the Women' as the delicate carvings are thought to be too fine to be created by ham-fisted men. 

By the time we got there, bus-loads of tourists had begun to pour in and it was often a bit of a struggle while they pushed and posed in front of each new carving they reached. But once you got the chance, the intricate craftsmanship and skill were truly amazing to see.

The weather had begun to take a turn for the worse, so Barang suggested we stop for a bite to eat before going into the next temple. And it's lucky we did! The heavens opened, and we refreshed ourselves with hearty bowls of noodle soup and lychee sodas while the rain fell in torrents, turning the corrugated iron roof of the cafe into the loudest mealtime musical accompaniment ever... you literally had to shout above it to be heard!

After the downpour eased, we entered the temple that Barang had brought us to see - the name of which we never managed to catch! The rain had created lots of deep brown puddles amongst the stones, but the golden light that hit the buildings as the sun came out again was gorgeous. And this particular temple stood out because of the little family of cats that had made its home in one of the towers!

It was a relatively small site and we didn't linger long as there was still much to see - however cute the kittens were! - so we hit the road again to take a look at Kbal Spean. 

At the top of a 2km climb and clamber through jungle and over rocks, there's a carved riverbed known as the 'River of A Thousand Lingas'. However, we can't personally testify to its existence as we didn't make it to the top. I had started to feel extremely tired and pretty unwell, so when we were about halfway up the steep ascent I had to admit that my going any further wasn't an option. So we picked our way back down to the tuk-tuk and sat with Barang for a while, quenching our thirst and chatting to him about his family and his aspirations to become a qualified tour guide at the temples. 

Soon it was time to move onto our final visit - the breathtaking Ta Phrom. Here nature has undertaken a fierce campaign to show the humans who's boss and the jungle is evidently taking back control. Ruins crumble amongst dappled sunlight as the trees recover the area, roots burst through brickwork, and 1930s adventurer-archeologists dodge booby traps and recover lost idols. OK, maybe not that last bit.

It's genuinely difficult to pick which photos to include here... such an awesome place.

It's a huge area and we took a good long time having a proper explore. What an atmospheric way to end our tour of the Temples of Angkor.

But being on the site of such history, where some parts of the movie Tomb Raider were filmed, wasn't the most dramatic part of our day.

The earlier rain had made the roads around the temples pretty treacherous. On our way back to Siem Reap for a well-earned 50p lager, Barang's motorbike went out from under him, shearing off the bolt attaching it to our tuk-tuk carriage and causing him to slide across the road, with Dave and I pitching forward and skidding along completely unattached to anything with brakes. 

The crash was something which, in hindsight, had felt inevitable from the moment we entered Cambodia. The roads in the country are insane at the best of times and I soon found that every time we were on them I was genuinely relieved when we made it to our destination in one piece. So a rickety old tuk-tuk, barrelling along mud-slicked roads amongst ancient ruins was, I suppose, always an accident waiting to happen.

We were incredibly lucky that we all came away unscathed; just the fact that at that moment no kids were playing in the road and no buses were ploughing their way through the other traffic was incredible. Barang had a couple of angry-looking scrapes on his elbow and ankle, but seemed far more concerned that we had come to no harm. Dave and I were both fine and kept telling Barang so, but he continued to check on us as he pulled out his makeshift tool kit and proceeded to reattach the tuk-tuk to his bike. 

Ten minutes later, shaken but unhurt, we were on the road again. Once we got back to the guesthouse, the first thing we did was grab three cans of beer and sit down to calm our nerves. Then, still assuring Barang that we were ok, we paid him his fee for the two days and said our farewells, thereby ending a very eventful couple of days.

Thailand to Cambodia

We'd booked ourselves onto a bus from Bangkok to Aranya Prathet, where you can cross the border into Cambodia (country number three!)

We said goodbye to our guesthouse after filling up on fried eggs, toast and coffee to fortify us for the trip, and hailed a cab to the Ekamai bus station. Once there, after not too long a wait, we were ushered over to what was little more than a people carrier and squeezed in alongside about 10 other people and their baggage. 

Once we'd fought our way through the Bangkok traffic and out of the city, things really got interesting. We seemed to have found ourselves in the care of a man who wasn't just willfully reckless in his driving, but appeared to have a full-on death wish. For all of us! 'White knuckle' just doesn't go far enough; he sped, weaved, braked, honked, zoomed, dodged, screeched and tore along the roads for two hours like a true maniac. 

In many Southeast Asian countries, it's common to see spirit houses outside of homes and business and alongside roads. Apparently these are to house mischievous spirits that, if they didn't have anywhere to go, would be out causing chaos - like making people crash their cars or fall off of their bikes. Funny, I would've thought that drivers having a little knowledge of road safety, a modicum of patience and some general regard for the sanctity of human life would have its own protective effects.

The spirit houses protecting us from calamity. PHEW!

The border crossing was one of those experiences that the Lonely Planet seemed to spin up into a stressful obstacle to be endured and powered through with one's head down. The book basically tells you to go straight to Cambodian immigration, not to speak to anyone as they're all scammers who work for local 'cartels' who'll harass you onto their buses and sting you for way more than a taxi driver would charge to get into town, and that you'll likely be charged extra exorbitant fees by officials for your Cambodian visa. Following our harrowing roadtrip to Aranya Prathet, I was feeling a little on-edge and the guidebook's warnings weren't helping any.

Luckily, Dave kept a very cool head and took the lead. Once we'd gotten through the Thai exit formalities, the first thing he did was to start talking to someone (!?) who ushered us over to a building where we were to purchase our visas, while I lagged behind generally panicking and cursing under my breath that it was all already going horribly wrong. We filled out our forms, only paid an extra 200TBH backhander on top of the official $20, and were then ushered on again by Dave's new best bud to the border crossing. By this point, paranoid me was convinced we'd been shafted and that whatever had been stuck into our passports resembling a Cambodian visa was actually some piece of expert forgery scrawled on the back of a napkin. 

Standing slightly stressed in the short queue of tourists waiting to clear Cambodian immigration, I overheard two English lads behind us who'd taken the guidebook's warnings to the extreme; they'd indeed completely bypassed the visa office and headed straight to the crossing - just as I'd probably have done if I hadn't had a calm, sensible Dave with me. 

Then it was our turn up to the counter, where they stamped our visas with a smile and digitally took our fingerprints. Then we were through! Into Cambodia! Without being arrested or laughed at or bankrupted! Sighs of relief from me. Sighs of mild irritation from Dave at my lack of faith. And yes, the the hapless guys behind us did have to go back to the office and buy their visas before trying again to enter the country!

So don't trust the Lonely Planet in this instance if it's whipping you up into a frenzy of apprehension about how tough the crossing will be; it's really not that bad.


Next step was to board the bus from Poipet (the Cambodian side of the border) to Siem Reap, where we'd be staying in order to spend the next few days taking in the ancient temples of Angkor Wat. New best bud had shadowed us through to the other side of immigration, and fair enough he did work for the 'cartel' on duty that day and did usher us onto their bus into town, but it only cost us $9 each and it was there and going in the right direction, and we were tired, and he was really nice, so hey, no harm done.

The bus journey took about an hour and a half and gave us a good opportunity to see a bit of our new destination speeding past the windows. The landscape was incredibly flat, with green fields stretching off as far as the eye could see. Alongside the road, water channels fed the crops and provided bathtime and recreation for the locals, with people swimming and even kids playing in rubber rings. Pale, saggy-necked cows and black bulls with huge horns plodded the water's edge, and white cranes frequently spread their huge wings to take flight over the scene. The roads were also dotted with more of SE Asia's ubiquitous roadside ‘shanty shops’ and the soon-to-be-very-familiar baguette carts. We shared the road with people cycling on rickety old bikes and whole families crammed onto scooters - dad up front, mum at the back, with at least three children of varying ages and usually a pet in between them. 

We had a brief pit-stop at a roadside cafe for a much-needed can of the local Anchor lager.

The roads got a little more nail-biting again as it began to rain and darkness fell (no streetlights!) but soon enough we arrived in Siem Reap and new best bud (let's call him by his real name - Lowk Barang) was ready for us in his other guise as rickshaw driver. So we got in - trying not to get too wet - and off we went to Garden Village, a guesthouse/hostel we'd found online, to find ourselves a room. The whole journey, from leaving Bangkok to getting to our accommodation in Cambodia, took about nine hours.

We got a large room with air conditioning and hot water for about £6.50 a night. They only had a twin available, so we pushed the beds together! The place also had a big rooftop bar and restaurant which served draught lager for 30p a glass and decent meals for about £1.50 a head. They also had a free pool table, free jukebox with great music and free WiFi. It was understandably full of backpackers! 

We planned to take it very easy the next day, taking a wander around Siem Reap to get our bearings, and then the following day we'd start exploring the temples of Angkor Wat. But until then it was time to kick back, drink some cheap beer, fill our bellies, listen to some good tunes, and get a good night's sleep.