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.