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.