Tuesday, January 29, 2019

Kep, Cambodia, a French Colonial Ghost Town

Why you want go downtown. Nothing there!,” our tuk tuk driver repeats with a puzzled look on his face. “Nothing there!” Patiently, I explain again that I want to see the old French colonial buildings in the downtown core. 


Reluctantly, our driver turns his tuk tuk around and heads back in the direction we just came from towards what I hope is the downtown. 

Our tuk tuk driver Van Den looking out to the islands
We had just driven by the grandiose Kep provincial state complex on the oceanfront and were heading back up and over the hill towards the beach, which we have already visited. I assume— incorrectly it turns out—that he is just trying to cut our tour short. But I do him a gross injustice.

Kep is a small town in southern Cambodia known for its beach and its famous Crab Market as well as its old French colonial architecture. But it’s a ghost town. 

We had almost booked a hotel in Kep, planning to spend two days there and two days in Kampot, which is only a bumpy, 30-minute tuk tuk ride away. But luckily for us, our new friends Mike and Denise had just been there and recommended staying the whole time in Kampot—“There’s more to see and do there.”—and doing just a day trip to Kep. I’m glad we took their advice!

House on stilts in countryside
The former French colonial retreat Kep isideally situated on the ocean with lovely high breezy hills to provide a somewhat cooler climate for the French living in Cambodia during the colonial period. They called these towns Hill Stations and would go there whenever possible to escape the blistering summer hot weather in Cambodia. The ocean added even more appeal.

We hire our newest friend Van Den, a young Cambodian tuk tuk driver with a great command of English, a good sense of humour and a knowledge of Cambodia and the tourist sites around Kampot. He’s actually a rice farmer who is so concerned about the environment and the health of this family he won’t use any pesticides or herbicides on his crops. When we stop for a break he buys himself a soy milk drink, not a pop. He laughs when he learns my name is Dan and sounds almost the same as his.

We plan our day trip with Den before we leave our hotel in Kampot and estimate we’ll spend the whole day in Kep, lounging on the beach, swimming, eating a crab lunch at the Crab Market and touring the old French town. I’m anxious to see the old colonial buildings and architecture, maybe even buy a souvenir.

Den will drive us to Kep, wait for us while we do the beach and walk around town, take us to the Crab Market for lunch and then drive us back to Kampot, all for $20 US, which is better than hiring two separate tuks tuks, one for each way at $15 US. Off we go, passing wooden huts on stilts, the salt pans, rice fields, and tiny fingerling streams jutting far back into the mainland from the ocean. Locals climb onto the back of a motorbike or crowd onto an oversized tuk tuk to get around.

Stopping for gas, we meet another tuk tuk driver, a friend of Den’s, who is having trouble communicating with his riders, four young British women. Den asks me to help explain in English the economics of the two-way versus one-way ride deal. They don’t seem too enthusiastic, however, about taking advice from an older Canadian at a gas station on a dusty country road in Cambodia and I leave them unconvinced.

Twenty minutes later, we meet them again at Kep beach and I have more time to coach them. They’re spending $15 US for their one-way ride, abandoning their driver and planning to find another tuk tuk to take them back to Kampot later in the day for probably another $15 US.

Kep Beach
This time my logic prevails when I explain that their driver will actually wait for them all day, guide them around town, including the trek to the Crab Market where they can have lunch, and drive them back to Kampot, all for a saving of roughly $10 US. And they won’t have to hoof it from one site to the next over the mountain roads on foot or have to hire new tuk tuks for each trip.

The young ladies thank me and Carolann and I head off to stroll along Kep beach, which is about a kilometre long with golden sand and gentle waves. It’s lined with food carts and ladies renting out brightly coloured woven mats and umbrellas. Locals rent the mats to have picnics on the beach. 
Woven mats for beach picnics

But the beach and water are not very enticing after we’ve just spent a week on the white talcum powder beaches of Koh Rong so I pass on the chance to swim. A half hour later we’ve finished strolling along the beach and we’re ready to move on. Luckily Den is waiting to take us to our next stop, the giant statue of Kep’s famous blue crab. Disneyland here we come!

When we stop at the giant crab statue, Den points out the Cambodian islands just offshore and, in the distance and very close behind them, the islands that Vietnam took away from Cambodia when they invaded the country to oust the madman Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge in 1978. Den, like every Cambodian we talk to, is still very angry about the loss of their islands. Vietnamese fishers still come and “invade” Cambodian waters “stealing our fish,” he says.

We continue our tour heading for “downtown” driving along wide, nicely paved, empty boulevards all lined up in a neat grid pattern. On either side, the jungle encroaches and we pass a few old derelict stone or concrete villas. There are no cars, no people and only the occasional tuk tuk. Eventually we stop at a magnificent column in the middle of a wide traffic circle. On the other side is a statue of a warrior on a horse standing proudly over a long, wide landscaped park leading to a grandiose government building that seems to serve no purpose, just like all the empty boulevards. It’s new and looks totally out of place in the middle of nothing but jungle and deserted boulevards.

As Den sips his soy milk, he grins mischievously and asks, “How you like downtown?” What! I’m confused, where is the old colonial town? “This is it. You like?”, he replies impishly.

The town and it’s grand old French colonial villas were taken over by the Khmer Rouge in the mid ‘70s for their own use and then destroyed by the Vietnamese during the invasion. You can see the holes in the moulding concrete walls caused by shelling and the fighting. A couple of the abandoned properties have been bought and turned into fancy hotels but the rest continue to fall into sad ruin. The land is apparently for sale at $500 US per square metre, but nobody is buying. I expect Chinese investors will come in and build more casinos as they have done in Sihanoukville to the ire of the Cambodians. But for now it’s a ghost town with lovely paved streets, useless monuments and a few monkeys.

Hauling in the crab traps
By this point, it’s time for lunch and we head back over the mountain to Kep’s famous Crab Market. Sitting in our oceanside restaurant, one of many along the wharf, we watch the crab pickers wade into the shallow water to pull in their traps. They scoop out hundreds of small blue/green crabs. I’m amazed at how many crabs each trap holds. The ladies squat right on the rocky shore and select some to sell to the restaurant owners by the bag full. The rest are dumped unceremoniously into large plastic buckets to be sold fresh in the market right next door.

But in spite of our love for crab and the fact that this is the famous local delicacy, we decide not to try the crab as we realize the traps are set on the shoreline right beside the sewer outlets. We later learn that that’s where crabs congregate, even in Canada. Yuk!

Each trap holds 100s of crabs
Instead we opt for BBQ’d squid with a fabulous lime pepper dip. The Kep/Kampot area is also famous for its pepper plantations and this dip adds a tangy, spicy, but not too hot, lemony zest to the meal. It’s fabulous with the tender squid.

Right next door to all the restaurants is the crab market where you can buy everything from fresh crab to grilled fish, shrimp, squid, shellfish and lots of fruit. It’s colourful, crowded, bustling and a lot of fun to see all the different types of fish and fruit and to smell the smoking flavours of the roasting squid.
BBQd squid and fish in Crab Market



Carolann takes a Fuji instant photo of one of the smiling vendors and the grateful Khmer lady offers me some rambutan, one of my favourite fruits. It’s spiky bright-red exterior hides a juicy, translucent fleshy fruit that is sour and sweet at the same time. Wonderful!

Duran and rambutan fruit in Crab Market
And that brings a sweet ending to our short tour of Kep. Our day is only half over but it’s time to head out onto the dusty road back to Kampot. Den’s humour and guidance made the trip fun and worthwhile—even if we didn’t sample the famous crab and the French colonial architecture was in ruins.


Saturday, January 26, 2019

Kampot, a French Colonial Retreat on the Ocean

We’ve reluctantly left Koh Rong island and its beautiful white sand beaches off the southern tip of Cambodia. The Sok San Resort launch returned us form the island resort to their private dock near
Sok San Beach Resort private launch
Sihanoukville in one hour--with only one little hitch. A mere 10 minutes from the safety of the dock, we hear a loud bang that sends a shock through everyone on board. The twin 250-hp engines shut down and we drift in anxious silence. The captain pulls the engines up for inspection and we see a shredded bamboo log floating behind us. Now, I’ve always wondered what happens when a boat hits a log, but I was just curious. Drifting off the coast of Cambodia wasn’t the time I really wanted to find out. But no damage has been done and we continue on, albeit at a slower anxious pace.

But that’s not the end of our travel woes. Because we were unable to connect with a shuttle service on the internet or on the phone before our island departure, we have no pre-arranged pickup and have to negotiate with the solitary taxi that’s waiting at the dock. Several tuk tuk drivers offer to take us into town, but we want to go further than a tuk tuk would allow comfortably to the small town of Kampot two and a half hours away.

The lone taxi driver, who speaks only Khmer, refuses to budge on his price of $50 US for the drive because the road is so bad. At least that is what I assume he is explaining as he keeps saying “Wow” and excitedly waving his hands and arms up and down like a mogul skier about to take air. 

At last, when only he and we are left in the deserted parking lot, he finally agrees to $45. But once we’re on the road he starts saying “My friend, my friend, no me” and heads to downtown Sihanoukville not onto the highway to Kampot. We finally surmise that $45 was too little for him and he wants his friend to take his car and us instead. So for the $5 saving, we get a free “tour” of the rundown, dusty, ugly downtown core of Sihanoukville, which we later learn is being bought up, torn down and rebuilt with Chinese money to the great dismay of the locals. Many expats and businesses have left there because of the drastically higher rents and disruption. Many, it turns out, have moved to Kampot.

Kampot Shophouse covered in flowering vine
Anyway, we sit for five minutes at a parking area waiting for “My friend” who never shows up, so we head back out onto the road, which really is like a mogul run with bone-shattering potholes, loose gravel and lots of dust.

The free side trip “tour” actually costs us an extra half hour and turns our 2.5-hour trip into a 3-hour bumpy ride. To make matters worse, our driver who turns out to be pretty friendly actually, starts talking to me in Khmer because I had responded “Ot te, arkon” (No thank you) in Khmer when he offered us some of his cashews. Suddenly he can’t stop talking in Khmer! Blah, blah, blah, Khmer. Blah, blah, blah, Khmer. I nod sympathetically in the front seat while Carolann dozes in the back.

I’m sure he’s telling jokes because in between the “Wows” when we hit a huge pothole he blathers on and then laughs hysterically. I can’t even sleep because he’s talking so much. Not that I could sleep driving anywhere in Asia and certainly not while being thrown into the air by the moguls and potholes.

But he’s a cautious, safe driver and we arrive in time for lunch in Kampot, a small riverside former French retreat not far from the ocean. Remnants of the French colonial era abound in the architecture and the food. Rows of traditional shophouses line the streets and are filled with  restaurants, shops and boutiques. Our choices of restaurants and watering holes are numerous, with Khmer, French, Italian, even Hungarian options. And then, of course, there are the famous “Happy Pizza” joints with names like “Ecstatic”, “Kampot Haze” and “Happy Yummy Pizza” that are sadly no longer offering marijuana pizzas. Oh well, the names are dreamy!

Even without the “Happy Pizza”, however, the whole town has a nice relaxed feel to it and a decided French flavour that I love. Most of the tourists seem to be French as well although there are plenty of Brits and Germans and a sprinkling of Canadians. There are a lot of expats and many people come here for the entire winter to enjoy the warmth, the low prices and easy access to the ocean beaches and islands just off the coast.
The small Italian Osteria with homemade pasta 


Life is easy here, rent and food are cheap and traffic is minimal. A lot of tourists ride sedately around town on bicycles or rent motorbikes. Our hotel even has free bikes for our use, but we're not quite ready for cycling in Cambodia.

Kampot is not upscale, it's relaxed and just a bit trendy. There's even a small restaurant that has banned plastic straws, offers ones made out of bamboo, and supports a local woman's group.
Epic Arts Cafe offers bamboo straws

An artistic flair is evident in some of the shops and buildings. We even found what looks like an artist’s community and a writers club housed in an old colonial building now decorated in bright colours and stencils of Mandela and Bob Dylan.
Kama Cafe and art studio



The main river road is dotted with small restaurants and bars on one side and a wide promenade on the other. Small wooden river cruise boats are tied up the full length of the promenade.
Firefly river cruise boats tied up on the Kampot promenade
They offer evening “Firefly” cruises to see the fireflies along the river at night. The boats and promenade are lit up like fireflies themselves in bright coloured lights. It’s all quite attractive and the food choices are exciting. While it’s a far cry from the tranquility of Koh Rung, it’s quiet and peaceful. So no more boat rides, thank you very much, we’ll have a glass of wine and a pizza to help chill us out instead.
Enjoying our first glass of wine at the Happy Pizza in Kapot

Thursday, January 24, 2019

The Slow Life on Koh Rong Island, Cambodia


It’s sunrise at Sok San Resort on Koh Rong (island) off the southern coast of Cambodia. It’s time to lay back after the chaos of Phnom Penh. We just missed a typhoon by days but it did little visible damage at the resort.  The debris in the ocean tells a different story, however.



Every morning is beautiful at Sok San Beach Resort. We're up at 6 am to reserve our beach chairs, breakfast at 7, then a long walk on the white sand beach. The talcum powder sand squeaks when you walk on it. Loving the slow island life!

Down the beach from our resort is a tiny village, really just a cluster of wood shacks. Access is along a narrow, dark laneway suitable only for slow walking or motorbikes. It's  more pleasant to take a shorter stroll along the beach. But either way, at night you’d better have a flashlight.

The food at our Sok San resort on Koh Rong island is over priced and mediocre so we've walked down the beach every night to the tiny village where there are several well priced restos with far better food.


Rickety wood and bamboo shacks line either side of the laneway in a surprising medley of housing, shops, backpacker cabins, and some very basic but inexpensive open-air restaurants. The one we like is the Moon which is right on the white sand beach. It has a laid back vibe, yellow canopies over the tables and chill music.
The Moon on Sok San Beach


It also has great food, inexpensive drinks and a young German waiter who speaks English with a French accent. He’s travelling around the world working bars and just spent the last four months with a group of young people from France, hence the strange accent. Next week he heads off to the Philippines.


Tonight I have chicken fried rice in a half pineapple. Yummy! Drinks are very reasonable, which makes Carolann happy.
Enjoying the chill vibe at the Moon


We arrived on Koh Rong just a few days after a typhoonvery unusual weather for this time of year. And although there appeared to be no visible damage, we slowly learned that it was worse than we were told by the resort staff when we called to make sure it was safe to take the one-hour boat ride out to the island. 

On our first visit to the village, I thought it was odd to see the young German dragging sleds of sand from the laneway back onto the Moon's beach front. Over beer, he explained why.

The storm had wiped out all of the cool yellow canopies at the restaurant and pushed water and sand all the way to the bottom steps of the house across the laneway—a good 150 feet. They have just set up the tables and canopies again when we sit down for dinner.


The high wind and waves had peeled off the wooden planks on one of the piers and tossed them one by one into the air like a deck of cards. Boats were tossed around like toys, damaged and sunk.

Luckily we missed all the fun by a couple of days and our resort looked none the worse for wear. The only clue we had of any storm was the constant flow of plastic debris washing up on the beach and the young blond German in bathing trunks moving sand around.


Several shops in Sok San village have displays of fruit and drinks and, as is common in Cambodia, gasoline sold in litre pop bottles.

Kids play in the laneway and are very often eating with their family at the table near us in the open-air restaurants. The laneway and shops are alive with cats, dogs and chickens as well as all the children who never seem to be in school.


I count at least 10 different restaurants, most of them offering Khmer food, but there is one Italian guy serving “Authentic Italian Pizza” at Eat, Pray, Love, one Israeli falafel joint and a Russian bar.

The mainstay of the village, besides tourism, seems to be squid fishing. At night, the horizon is dotted with 20 or more large boats all with floodlights on to attract the squid.

One dark moonless night, as we walk back along the beach to our resort, we are startled to see a bobbing light speeding silently towards us like a drunk staggering unsteadily home from the pub. It washes ashore mere feet from us and  like a  dark shadow out jumps a spry old Cambodian who quickly drags a tiny styrofoam boat up the beach. It has only one oar, hence the weaving and bobbing, and a bucket of freshly caught, squirming squid. We’ve probably eaten some of his catch on the island.

Lounging on the beach is not really our style, so collecting plastic debris on the beach and walking to the village for lunch and dinner is really the only diversion we’ve had here on the island. The food in the village is better than at our resort, the drinks are cheaper and the people are friendlier. All I have to do is say “Soksaby” and the smiles appear.

Monday, January 21, 2019

The Love Resort, Koh Rong, Cambodia

At the end of a long, rusty red, dirt road, we found paradise. But, as a good Catholic once told me, you have to work to get to paradise.

On the north side of Koh Rong island, a hot one-hour trek away from our resort, is where they filmed Survivor Cambodia's Tribal Councils and where we found a lovely deserted beach, our own piece of paradise. To get there, however, we had to shuffle along a soft dirt road and chew red dust for an hour. And we never were really certain we were on the right path because our photocopied "Survivor" map was so sketchy. "It takes faith to get to paradise," she said.


We met Vickie on our first day at Sok San Beach Resort. She was a young British tourist who was doing volunteer work with a woman's group in Siem Reap in the north of Cambodia. She told us she had hiked to the north side of the island and there was northing there but a stinking cesspool swamp. So we had put the idea of a hike out of our heads, at least I thought we had. I was actually quite relieved because it was so hot on the island and the beach at the resort was so nice. 

But then we bumped into Mike and Denise, two like-minded adventurous Brits who travel the way we do, slow and in depth. They had rented a motorbike and described an idyllic, deserted beach on the north side where they had been spending their days in peaceful isolation far from the madding crowd of our resort. The beach was deep and isolated, the water was calm and shallow. "You can walk out for a kilometre and only be up to your knees," they said. But even better, there is a "resort" that has cheap beer and a real wood pizza oven where they make a fabulous vegetarian pizza that Denise raved about.

Dead tree swing on the north shore of Koh Rong

"It's easy to find," explained Denise in her soft British accent, "take a right turn at our resort gate, then left at the intersection and just follow the road." Obviously we had to check out this little piece of heaven. So on our last full day at Sok San, we put on our hiking shoes and headed off, blindly following the "Survivor" map and Denise's "simple" instructions. In very short order, we found ourselves on Vickie's road headed for the dreaded swamp. So much for "simple"

Thankfully, Mike and Denise bumped by on their motorbike and waved us back onto the main road after we'd gone a mere 200 sun-baked yards.

For the next half hour, truck drivers and kind souls on motorbikes stopped us to ask where we were going and offered a lift. Unfortunately, they were headed the wrong way into the town of Touch, but they assured us in Khmer that we were on the right path. At least that's what we thought they said, our Khmer being limited to hello, thank you and good bye.

At a crossroads, one rusty red dirt road going left, one identical dirt road going right, we stopped at a small hut selling Khmer food. Of course nobody spoke English, they couldn't read our map and they didn't understand our pronunciation of the location we were aiming for, Tivak. Khmer isn't like Chines with its five tones, you see, but is guttural and I haven't yet mastered the nasal quality.

Luckily, Carolann had more faith in Denise's instructions than I did and we headed off towards the military base. Hmmm, have faith my friend!

Ten minutes later, Mike came bouncing back on his bike having dropped Denise off at the beach and offered to take Carolann the rest of the way. There is a god! I, however, was left sucking their red dust beside a marsh and wondering why they had so many crocodile statues on the temples in Cambodia. Have faith, have faith!

A very long, dusty 20 minutes later, Mike reappear with an empty rear seat and off we roared to join the two women on the beach in paradise.

And what a beach! A kilometre long and deep, with tiny crushed shells on hard-packed sand (not at all like the white power on the other side of the island). Shallow, with only small waves and warm as a bathtub. On either side of the beach, mangrove trees still grow and clean the water.

About a kilometre offshore, the owner has built a large platform on raised poles for sun bathing. You can wade almost all the way out, needing to swim only the last 50 metres or so.

Dead trees in the ocean
Strange looking dead trees stand in the shallows just off the beach. I never could ask anyone why trees would have been growing in the salt water. But the creative owner of the resort has turned one of the large trees into a water swing. What fun! Other trees onshore support more artistically carved bench swings and a large coconut palm tree supports a swaying hammock in its shade.

A few teak lounge chairs dot the beach, but when we were there we say only three young Germans frolicking in the shallow water. The resort is actually just a campground with a large restaurant. So essentially we had the beach entirely to ourselves to lounge, swim and read on the teak chairs.

A large heart-shaped bench is made out of wooden ribs from a ship. The wood is covered in barnacle shells that look like they've been glued on, but that's just the way they grow in the ocean. 

Under a gigantic, thatched-roof, outdoor eating area and bar are more wooden swings and 40 large, live-edge dining tables that are not only comfortable but beautiful as well. The roof and supporting beams are made from giant coconut palms, some over 100 feet long. They were put up by the owner himself. Passion fruit vines are being trained to grow up over netting that runs the length of the hall.

A family of good looking black dogs, that have been named by the owner, roam around the tables looking for handouts and petting. Our puppy was appropriately named Mike, like our British biker.

Surprisingly, given the size of the eating area, tours don't come here and the only accommodation is large family tents on raised platforms (like clamping) that are covered with large sail-like sun screens. A string of 20 clean, comfortable washrooms with showers provide the necessary facilities to the campers.

After a tasty pizza lunch and some cold beer, we had one more swim, read for a while and dozed until it was time to hit the dusty road again. This time we decided to let Mike enjoy the rest of the afternoon at the beach and we headed out on foot for the hot hike home.

The Love Bench
It was a long, dusty, one-hour trek back to our resort, but by this time in the afternoon the sun was casting long shadows through the palm trees and, while still hot, it was a bit cooler. I'll admit, however, that I was extremely happy to see our beach again and get back into our air-conditioned room. But, as my friend said, you have to work to get to paradise and you'll feel great after the suffering.

Monday, January 14, 2019

Cambodia--Hot and Spicy

Phnom Penh, Cambodia

After almost two days of travel, we finally arrived in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, exhausted. What we saved on our flight cost by going the long way from Toronto through London and Helsinki, we paid dearly in our energy levels because of lack of sleep and travel fatigue. And our ears are still plugged and painful from all of the takeoffs and landings—eight in total counting the last leg from Bangkok to Phnom Penh. 


The flight from Helsinki to Bangkok was particularly interesting because I got to watch the de-icing and the take-off from a camera on the tail. Pretty cool. 

Business class seating in little cubicles turned out to be very comfortable and I actually was able to sleep on the plane, which is unheard of for me. 


Our plan is to lay low in Phnom Penh, the capital city, to recover and resynch our internal clocks to Asia time. Why Phonm Penh? Well, we’ve been to Cambodia before but never to the capital and this city will be a good jumping off point for the islands off the southern coast and then for our trip north to Laos afterwards. We’re not really in Phnom Penh for the tourist sites.

We’ve lucked out with a lovely boutique hotel within walking distance of the main attractions, such as they are. The Royal Palace is similar but not as grandiose as the one in Bangkok and we’ve seen lots of temples or Wats in Asia. That leaves the Genocide Museum and the Killing Fields, neither of which I’m looking forward to, but which I feel we have a moral duty to visit even if it is depressing. More on that after our visit.

Sacred Lotus blossom at Mansion Hotel


Phnom Penh is a bit of a surprise. This former French colony capital of over two million people is overcrowded, teeming with motorbikes and cars and not very attractive. It has none of the grace or elegance of other former French colony cities like Hanoi. In fact the only vestiges of French colonialism I’ve seen so far are the wonderful croissants and baguettes. Where Hanoi has a lot of French colonial architecture, I’ve seen very little here. Everything appears drab except for the golden wats and the ever-present flowers.

But Phnom Penh isn’t as polluted or dirty as other cities we’ve visited in India or Thailand.  Although there are millions of motorbikes zipping along like enraged hornets, the air pollution is minimal. There are no diesel buses or trucks belching black clouds of throat-clogging exhaust. In fact, we haven’t seen any public transit other than Tuk tuks. And the noise level is so much lower than horn-honking cities in India. Drivers rarely use their horns here except to warn a bike not to cross in front of them at an intersection.

The rules of the road, however, are similar to other Asian cities—bigger wins. Red lights are routinely flouted. Stop signs, if there are any, are ignored. A wave of cars and bikes will keep going through the intersection as a solid block long after the light has changed. The herd provides security. Motorbikes will turn left on a red light if they see a gap in the crossing traffic. And you will often find a motorbike going the wrong way on a one-way street, driving close to the curb right where you need to be walking.  You need to keep your eyes peeled, which is hard to do because the ongoing weaving dance of bikes and cars is mesmerizing. It’s like a ballet, constantly moving in an intricate synchronized flow. But the risk is much worse than stepping on your partners toes!
Typical traffic, but the ladder on a scooter is a bit unusual.

Which brings me to the hazards of walking in Phnom Penh. Sidewalks are broken up and completely clogged with parked motorbikes and cars. So you are forced onto the road to get around the blockades, all while looking out for oncoming cars and deadly stealth electric motorbikes which you can’t hear until they brush by your arm. It is impossible to walk in a straight line anywhere. You have to constantly zig zag around trees, parked bikes and holes in the sidewalk. Consequently it takes twice as long to get anywhere. 

At night, the danger is much, much worse. You can’t see the broken tiles or holes in the sidewalks and some of the electric bikes turn off their lights to save their batteries. It is much safer and faster to hop on a Tuk tuk to get where you’re going at night. It only costs $3 and because the traffic here moves at such a sedate pace, it is relatively safe. Much safer than walking.

The other problem with Phnom Penh is currency—it’s US dollars in restaurants, stores, and even for Tuk tuks. They will take Cambodian riels, but the prices are listed in US dollars so you have to convert. To make matters worse, banks won’t change Canadian dollars and ATMs won’t give you riels. They only spit out crisp, new $100 US bills, which nobody takes! 

Purple lotus flower and buds at market
On the plus side, even in this blackened city there are trees and flowers everywhere, mostly in urns, vases or holes in the sidewalks. And the market is full of bright bouquets of lotus blossoms and golden offerings for prayers. Trees are adorned with purple cascading bouquets or multicoloured frangipani flower clusters.  Colouful offerings of purple or white lotus blossoms are left on sidewalks and epiphytic orchids hang from tree branches. 

And everywhere, fragrant incense wafts from stores, restaurants, coffee shops and brilliant golden orbs left as offering on the sidewalk. Bright, fresh mango, dragon fruit, pineapple, jack fruit is sold from carts and stands everywhere in the city. 

A big pleasant surprise is that the noise level is very low. Unlike many other Asian cities there are very few barking dogs roaming around, no roosters, no loud trucks and rarely any honking.

The biggest blessing is the Cambodian people. They’re friendly, smiling and always gracious. I’ve learned a few expressions of Khmer that I use to greet people just to see them smile when I say “Hello” or “How are you?”.
Making noodles by hand from scratch

All in all, we’re off to a slow quiet introduction to Cambodia. Just the way we want it. Slow and easy!

Red chilli peppers
Ginger flower buds