Beyond Sin City

Some events are timeless, a classic occurred in Sihanouk Ville, before setting off for the islands in the south east of Cambodia. While sat down waiting for my food the peaceful tranquility was shattered by banging dance tunes approaching. They emanated from a tiny step-through motorbike, laden with a huge box strapped on the back. To my dismay the rider was a grizzled old guy in an oversize baseball cap and white lab coat. Parking directly opposite he got off and proceeded to disco dance and body-pop with full gusto. He was hilarious and loved every minute of it, a showman to the very last. I can assure you he got everybody’s attention, it was top class. Bizarre to say the least, but I save the best for last. He was the local fish merchant doing his night-time rounds. The man had style, as well as a damned good sense of humour. He didn’t sell any fish, but I think it really mattered to him. (Photo: The Heywain - Don Det, 4 Thousand Islands, Loas)

I need to start carrying my reading glasses at all times, I can’t even read menus or see my food clearly. My overnight stop between Phnom Penh and the Laos border proved the latest example of problems that can arise. I thought the barbequed meat looked like chicken. It isn’t that I felt particularly against eating frogs, it was more that it wasn’t what I’d bargained for. Stuffed frogs, with everything but head and feet, their chest cavities filled with a gritty mix of grain and paste. I got the feeling it might be better not to know what was in the stuffing. It was palatable and I ate most of two frogs, bones and all. It was little more than the back bones I left but still didn’t wish to waste it, so I fed the leftovers to a dog. To be fair it was a well-fed dog, but still, it turned its nose up at the offering. It made me wonder how edible food is when a street dog won’t eat it. I’ve tried frogs legs, they were better. With little meat and suspect stuffing I wish I’d have seen them for what they were straight away. (Photo: A monk driving a motorboat - Don Det, 4 Thousand Islands, Loas)

Two days was my guess for the trip from Phnom Penh to Don Det, one of the Mekong’s 4 Thousand Islands in the south of Laos. Having straightforward directions my only worry was getting the bike over another border. Bearing in mind it’s not in my own name, so I have no legitimate paperwork, it went surprisingly well. I had to pay $10 temporary exit tax to leave Cambodia, but entering Laos was much easier. The customs post stood a mile or more back from the actual border, the barrier was up, so I rode straight through. In effect that simple reckless action freed me up to dispose of the bike anyway I wanted. So I have done! For a piddling fee I’ve handed over the bogus documents and the bike is destined to retire onto the island of Don Det. It will have an easy life of pottering up and down the sandy banks of the Mekong River. How long it will last is anyone’s guess. It's served me well but I'm not sorry to see it go, it's only a matter of time before I had to dump it anyway. (Photo: View from King Kong restaurant - Don Det, 4 Thousand Islands, Loas)

Don Det for Christmas it seems to be for me. Though much busier than imagined, it is very laid back. There are a lot of foreign settlers here, a situation that has steadily increased for a few years now. Most the island properties line the riverside path, if there is room at the riverside itself a few bungalows may have been built. Tourism is mainstream on the sunset side, here on the east there are more long term visitors. Marriage as a means of setting up home and business is common. I make that sound so mercenary, I’m beyond criticizing the thoughts or decisions between two free thinking adults. The world is opening up more, and I don’t mean purely for travel purposes, cultural divides are breaking down. From what I’ve seen in SE Asia now inter-racial relationships are very much a part of today’s Asia. It would be wrong to associate this side of it with sex tourism, even though that is also in evidence. There really is only one Thailand, it must be host to the world's seediest sex tourism, none of the other countries have succumbed to the gross exploitation found there. (Photo: Some islands are aren't big enough for habitation - Don Det, 4 Thousand Islands, Loas)

Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia have been waiting for me for some time. Many years have passed with the knowledge that I would travel these countries, I was merely waiting the opportunity and inclination to do them as a single journey. I’m glad I did, they have many similarities but are quite different too. All have suffered horrendous damage due to the crippling bombing raids of the USAF, but Laos seems to have avoided the mass slaughter of it’s population by infighting. They’re more reserved than the other two nations, and I wander whether this is sufficient to explain how it got away from the protracted armed struggle of Vietnam or the genocide of Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge in Cambodia. Ho Chi Min lead a revolution in Vietnam, the fight for a united, independent Vietnam. Pol Pot was just insane, he basically marched the whole population of city dwellers into work/prison camps and gradually exterminated millions of them. In Loas the problem was the bombing raids by the USA, they’d dump any left over from raids on Hanoi onto Laos territory. Many of the population cowered in caves for years to escape the continuous bombardment. (Photo: Well they are Water Buffalo - Don Khon, 4 Thousand Islands, Loas)

I wonder how the different histories have shaped the peoples, none appear irreparably scarred by the experience. Pol Pot had his reign of terror as recent as 1979, not long after America finally left Vietnam to it’s own devices. It’s strange that Laos, not actually at war with anyone, had more US bombs dropped on it than Vietnam and Cambodia. Their only sins were the Vietcong sypathisers up north, the yanks tried to destroy all supply lines, which is why whole communities resorted to living daily life in cave systems. As it happens the Americans also encouraged and supplied the royalist army trying to stir up an internal war against the rising tide of communism in Asia. All three countries were devastated by the biggest aerial bombardment of all time, many of these border regions still have armed ordinance lying in wait. Within about a decade the populations of all countries were decimated, there’s a huge population gap. But the numbers of kids is now immense, more than 50% of the populations are kids. If nothing else the people show one hell of a lot of perseverance. (Photo: Wee part of the waterfalls - Don Khon, 4 Thousand Islands, Loas)

Finally making my decision over which publisher to use was a relief, it felt more hassle than writing the book itself; which was a pleasure despite the emotional upheaval of doing so. Did I ever have a deadline? Maybe I should have done, I’ve faffed around with it long enough. Now it’s with the copyeditor for its final edit, I guess I won’t see it until next year now.

Oh, I guess I should wish you all fun Festivities as well. Enjoy the meyhem folks, I'll be in touch next year!

(Photo: My last voyage with the bike - Nakasarn, 4 Thousand Islands, Loas)

In the land of nod with the Pajama people

Cambodia really is a sleepy laid back country, it’s also very poor and the people have few opportunities in life. In such places it’s easy to see how locals view foreigners as a means of obtaining money, but I think the emphasis on this is a far cry from my experiences in Vietnam. Without doubt the peasant classes are not too different in either country, they’re a long way removed from the general hustle of mass tourism. Yet for the experiences in rural Vietnam I’m still inclined to think the Vietnamese are more likely to bump up their prices where foreigners are concerned. Of course in Vietnam tourism is better established, even following the Ho Chi Min Trail many sections see a continuous dribble of intrepid tourists riding through on their illegal motorcycles. By doing the whole length of the trail we passed through many areas where they obviously didn’t see many foreigners; people’s response to our presence is a clear indication of this. In neither country is there much evidence of wealth, I’m just glad to be back on two wheels to see the life away from tourism. (Photo: Rural setting in Cambodia – Kampot Province, SW Cambodia)

My route back to Phnom Penh took me around the coast, through Kampot province, before heading inland to the capital. How glad I am to have made this decision, it was a quieter route by far. Once leaving the main Phnom Penh to Sihanouk Ville road it was quiet roads and rural backwaters all the way. Much as I enjoyed the company on my down it was brilliant to be travelling under my own steam, at my own pace. I could concentrate on the world around me, with no regard for anyone else. I’ll never stop enjoying the look of delight on the faces of passersby when I acknowledge them. Without doubt the Cambodians are a touch more reserved than the Vietnamese, but dare I say they seem a touch more genuine in their response. In some ways this is unfair, we met a lot of locals in Vietnam thrilled at our presence, if only to ply us with rice spirit. (Photo: A small bike trailer, literally – Nr Kampot, Cambodia)

I didn’t mean to make the whole journey into Phnom Penh in one day, I almost wish I hadn’t but Kampot held little of interest. I got the closest to coming of this bike that I’ve been, and it left me feeling awful. Little more than pottering down the road a young dog wandered into the middle of the road, only to change its mind halfway across. Unfortunately I’d already corrected my course, moving far to the right to give it plenty of room. I tried beeping my horn, I was on loose gravel by then and could do little to reduce my speed as it walked straight into my path. The best I could manage was to veer further off the road, I still clipped it though. I’m just so glad I was going relatively slow, my foot connected with its jaw giving a resounding thud. I don’t think I’ve seen a dog run away so fast, yelping in pain and fear.
Was there anything I could do for it? I don’t think so, it didn’t hang about for me to find out, but to be honest I didn’t actually stop and try finding it. For those who know me well you’ll also know how wracked with guilt it made me. I’m not trying to justify it, but I’m sure there was no bone crunching feel or sound on impact. I only had soft shoes on and the force of impact would have been less than a well placed kick. It doesn’t matter really, it sickened me, both the event and my lack of compassion by not stopping, I only hope I’m correct in my assessment in a lack of serious damage to the poor thing. (Photo: 1] A quiet backwater – Approaching the Kampot coast, Cambodia; 2] In the land of nod – Phnom Penh, Cambodia)


Cambodian women with foreign men is a common sight, more so in the capital than the provinces but it’s still frequent, anywhere tourists have infiltrated. What can I say, in my mind it looks terrible, smacks of sex tourism. I’m glad to report that on the coast many of these couples were actually between foreign settlers and local women. It sort of gladdens my heart that folks have met and settled down together, of these unions there seems a natural balance. It’s invariably between two acceptable looking people, not an old western minger and fit young Cambodian. These do exist, especially in the capital, there is not the stigma attached that you find in Laos, where sex tourism in actively illegal. There relations between locals and foreigners should be declared to the local authorities, in theory making quick pickups nigh on impossible. (Photo: An example of beautiful traditional architecture – Phnom Penh, Cambodia)

Island life, I don’t think, is that far removed in nature anywhere in the world. If there is some form of livelihood other than fishing it may stand a chance of bypassing the influence of alcohol, on Kaoh S’dach that wasn’t the case. There isn’t any agriculture, and little industry outside of fishing or boat maintenance. I never fathomed how folks made any living, they certainly can’t rely on tourism, few tourists make it that far out. The local youths loiter, many appear inebriated but luckily don’t succumb to the aggressive drunkenness of the western world. Where they obtain the money is anyone’s guess, commerce with the outside world relies on seafood from what I can see, maybe the sense of community spirit ensures no-one goes short. As most the fishermen are often drunk, I think the pattern is pretty much set. Let’s face it, there’s bugger all to do on the island, who wouldn’t resort to alcoholic entertainment on an evening? (Photo: Mekong river folk – Phnom Penh, Cambodia)

Surprisingly I’ve seen little of this problem in the city, maybe everyone is too busy trying to make a living from the plentiful supply of tourists. Young kids of little more than 7 yrs old trawl the river area flogging bracelets and scarves to foreigners. They actually speak better English than the island kids, probably a matter of necessity. Today I broke one of my golden rules, I gave a handout to a couple of kids. Not monetary, I couldn’t finish my tub of ice-cream so gave them a treat. I had to stop an older lad taking it off them. He then suggested I give him a dollar, so he got a lecture on earning his own money, not begging. And what can you say when the truthful answer is that it just isn’t that easy in Cambodia? He sells books on the street, as do dozens of others, would I buy a book off him? No not really, because I don’t need another. So I wouldn’t give him any money, and couldn’t provide any solution to his dilemma either. Life sucks at times, I wish I could cure all the worlds problems in one foul swoop. (Photo: Monk on a motorcycle – Phnom Penh, Cambodia)

I wondered if the monks paid for the bike rides they obtained, considering they aren’t meant to handle money or have any possessions. Wake up Les, this is the modern world. I’ve now noticed many producing wads of notes from the folds of their robes, apparently times have changed.

Cambodian delights

We hit Cambodia with a great sense of elation, mainly due to sailing through the border with nary a comment about our bikes. We’d expected some difficulty, James remained convinced a simple bribe would suffice to get us through, but I held a more pessimistic view. Tales of abandoning motorcycles on the border were many, a sketchy few claimed there weren’t any problems. Uncertainty reigned, we hesitantly approached the border and had severe doubts as to what was happening when commanded to leave our bikes well away from the security post. We need not have worried, no-one mentioned our bikes. Once procuring an exit stamp we merely had to push them through the 100 metres of border control and then rode them up to the Cambodian side. An hour saw us through both sides of the border, and away we went all the way to the casino. Not to gamble, but to exchange the last of our Dong. (Photo: Boat life - Sihanouk Ville port, Cambodia)

An instant change in scenery occurred, which seems to be a familiar situation when crossing many borders. On our approach there had been loads of crops, neat patches of paddy, and numerous racks drying off palm fronds for roofing materials. Cambodian was a rough and ready scrubland in comparison, but it didn’t last long. Pretty soon vast swathes of paddy filled the entire horizon; these weren’t the small muddy beds separated by earthen banks, one enormous area of constant paddy dominated the area. Until reaching the flood plains connecting with the Mekong it was simply unbroken paddy with smalls copses of woodland dotted here and there. Even after the reaching the flood plains there was still plenty of rice paddy, anywhere that wasn’t completely inundated with water was given over to growing rice. Where there was water that is where the people live, whole families in tiny thatched shacks on surprisingly small rickety vessels. The main commercial catch is shrimp or prawns, but they sell anything they can catch, snails, frogs, water snakes, eels and even a small amount of fish. (Photo: Paradise lost - Initial view of Kaoh S'dach Island, Cambodia)

House styles were different too, being mainly of wooden construction on stilts, with slightly more decorative paneling on the eaves and apex of the roof. Up curved protrusions sprout from the gable ends, like buffalo horns I believe. Older places are made exclusively with thatched roofs, often these older houses stand side by side with newer, more substantial, houses with wooden tiled roofs. It seemed as if the old places were still in use for some purpose of another, it’s quite likely to be for other family members, expansion to cater for an ever increasing extended family. Though elders are still revered here the importance of the extended family is diminishing. At 75yrs old Ohm lives alone as one of only ten inhabitants of Kaoh Totang, her two sons have both moved away to the big city. Beyond fishing there is little to do in these parts, making money and participating in a modern world is as important for many islanders as it is for western folks. As always the bright city lights are a massive pull for youngsters, I guess it’s just as well they number of kids on the islands far outweighs the adult population. (Photo: Ohm's friend, helping harvest grass for roofing material - Kaoh Totang, Cambodia)

Phnom Penh, sin city, the highest concentration of foreigners I’ve mixed with since Luang Prabang. Hanoi may have had more but I didn’t stay within the main tourist enclave, preferring a small hotel tucked well away from most. We took a similar approach to accommodation when reaching the capital of Cambodia, taking individual rooms in a fairly plush hotel. We were the only western folks there, but within walking distance of the river area where most tourists hang out. If anyone thought this country was old worldy, with traditional values and disdain for the wanton nature of foreigners, forget it. The rest of the country is certainly very much like that, but not the capital. Foreign bars abound, scantily clad girls hustle for your custom as you walk past the bars. As you enter such places you’re surrounded by girls, it’s their job to escort you to a seat, to entertain you and keep you there as long as possible. They aren’t prostitutes, though I understand private agreements can be made, many are students supporting their studies. Apparently they are actually well paid, though I found the whole situation distasteful they didn’t waste time hassling you if you showed no interest. (Photo: Beach at Nomads Guesthouse - Kaoh Totang, Cambodia)

But the big city was nothing more than a rest stop, we were both fairly tired. The ride through Vietnam had been almost constant riding in some awful conditions, we have a full month in which to enjoy Cambodia and neither of us were in any hurry. James has friends setting up a dive centre in what’s renowned to be a beautiful part of the coast near Kaoh Kong. I had thought of going my own way from Phnom Penh, but the thought of a deserted island to stay on was too much to resist. I wanted my own space, so a hut on the beach to myself sounded perfect. Having a travel buddy has proved to be fun, this has happened rarely in my life and never to this extent; it’s been about six weeks in each other’s company now. We seem to compliment each other, and James does a good job at recognizing the times I’m getting het up with someone and quickly moves in the dissolve the situation. I do seem to have got a bit tetchy under the influence of alcohol recently, more than I’m used to so I need to be careful. (Photo: View from beach- Kaoh Totang, Cambodia)

Nights drinking till dawn aren’t the best solution to taking care, but they happen at times. You only have one life, why not enjoy it; so if having a drink is proving fun, why not? Of course the flip side is the abysmal hangover the next day, which is how we departed Phnom Penh. I’d love to say the scenery was gorgeous, which much of it was, but I was oblivious. The roads were straight, the going was good; even in our delicate state we went twice as far as we imagined that day. That was largely due to the realization that an absence of guesthouses forced the issue, we saw none after the towns immediately surrounding to the capital. Sihanouk Ville was reached just before dark, giving us time to contact the dive centre on Kaoh Totang. Unfortunately the only guesthouse was closed for another two weeks, in effect it made the whole reason for me coming this way a waste of time. But if you trust in events they have a surprising way of working out. (Photo: A select few of the hoards of kids on the island - Kaoh S'dach, Cambodia)

Miraculously James’ friend Sarah’s boyfriend happened to be in town that night. It was a tenuous link, but we had an escort to take us over to the Island the following day. Without the knowledge of the guesthouse owners we arrived and stayed on the Totang for three days, helping out during the days with the preparations for the start of the season on 1st December. I guess that saved the day, especially for me. Feeling a little like a hanger-on I felt more obliged to pitch in, so I did, for up to 6 hours some days. The atmosphere on the island was great, I constantly lost myself in a reverie of sight and sound; staring across the empty sea with nothing but the sound of lapping waves and cicadas. My accommodation was nothing more than a thin mattress on the dive shack floor, but it sufficed, I slept well. And in this manner a week flew by, a bit of work, some snorkeling, good food and good company.(Photo: Sunset from my guesthouse - Kaoh S'dach, Cambodia)

All good things come to an end though, the dive centre was in the process of moving, so it was time for me to vacate the premises too. Kaoh S’dach still isn’t a large island, there’s only one single track road the length of it. Most houses are built over the water, connected by dangerous walkways of loose, rotten planking. It can be precarious negotiating them in daylight, it’s damned dangerous in the dark or burdened with baggage. But on these rickety structures their whole world hinges. Sanitation is practical under the circumstances, wooden sheds with holes over the open seawater. It doesn’t inspire me to swim off the dock, though one poor guy seems to have the dubious job of donning snorkel and mask whenever there is any underwater work to be done. Chickens are raised without setting foot on dry land, being fed scraps of compostable material but existing almost exclusively on grain. There’s also a ready supply of fighting cocks, forever being groomed lovingly by their owners. I’ve not heard of an actual fight but the intention is obviously there. (Photo: Quarrying limestone blocks- Kaoh S'dach, Cambodia)

The kids are pure magic though, a chorus of “Hello, what’s your name?” follows you everywhere. A hoard of them will grasp both your hands, pumping furiously, “hello, hello, hello, what’s your name?” It doesn’t seem to matter with most what you reply, they’ll only laugh and repeat the phrase again and again. The only thing that bugs me is the complete lack of dental health, the majority of them have more rotten stumps than teeth, they’re going to be the first toothless generation. Fizzy drinks and sweets must be the culprits; I can’t imagine they’ve been available for too many years here, it’s a 4 hour boat trip from the mainland. OK, some adults teeth leave a lot to be desired, but they’re the minority. With kids it’s the norm, I can’t believe this isn’t recognised as an issue with the islanders. Though the level of motivation is very low among the local populace, for many it’s an effort to prise themselves out their hammocks to serve customers in their shops. Much easier is to get kids to do all the work, which is very common also. (Photo: Over the moon, King Hunter - Kaoh S'dach, Cambodia)

Cambodia is a wonderful place to experience. The people are friendly and helpful, they don't tend to over charge because you're a foreigner, maybe with the exception of boat captains. Food from the markets is exceptional, simple, tasty and cheap. Transport seems a bit hit or miss but this adds to the experience, riding through the country has posed no problems. Accommodation is cheaper than in Vietnam, and of a reasonable quality. Personally I'd rate it alongside Laos, which I adored.