"Where in the World"

Traveling to and through Cambodia

The journey from Thailand to the border in Hat Lek, Thailand side and Koh Kong on the Cambodian side. A ferry and few buses no problem. We did however get to the border at around 7pm an hour before it closed and the time of night when all the last of the traders, beggars and 'helpers'come out of the wood work with their hands out stretched hoping to get some luck at the end of a long day.

The guide book had told us we could pay in dollars when applying for our visa, which takes a few minutes but it was wrong. They would only except Baht and so we had to cross back over the border to go to the ATM in Thailand. For anyone that's thinking of going there they charged us 1,200 Baht and pocketed 200 of it. Luckily for us we had already arranged through Fiona (the womnan that owned Bo's Independant) to have someone pick us up and take us to his guest house. His name was Whisky and once he realised we were from England he tried his hand at impressing us with some cockney ryming slang. "Lovely jubbly, no worries chicken curry and alright geezer," it did however take us a few minutes to work each one out because his accent was so hard to understand.

The guest house (Koh Kong Guesthouse) we stayed at was simply but clean and had a nice little restaurant upstairs. In the morning we waited for our bus to arrive at 8.40am, half an hour later we were still waiting. Cambodia knows nothing about being prompt. We clamboured onto a small mini bus and off we went.

The roads in Cambodia are very unkept and it was rough going at some points. There are signs of building work taking place by the rivers but until the bridges are built you will have to suffice with crossing by a small car ferry. There are four of these ferrys all in all and I swear each one gets muddier and muddier. When we reached the first ferry point we were told to disembark the mini bus in case the boat sinks this way we would have more chance of survival.

The last ferry was by far the worst at one point the mud was so bad that the mini bus got stuck and we were told we might have to get out and push. Thankfully with some help from the locals we got onto the ferry. However this time the ferry wasn't made of sturdy metal but from two small boats with a patch work quilt of wood placed on top, that would creak or crack under our weight.. Walking around it was like a death trap one wrong move and you would submerged in dirty water.

But its okay we all survived and reached the other side in one piece. Not long after the raft ride we reached Sihanoukville, popular with Cambodians and tourists a like. It is supposed to be Cambodia's premiere beach resort and that's exactly what it was, a nice beach with plenty of restaurants aimed at tourists but we had fun there for a few days before moving onto Kampot.

Kampot compared to Sihanoukville is a sleepy little town with not much to it. The reason we went there was for a visit to the very unique Bokor Hill Station.

In the morning we woke to the sound of heavy rain and was not to happy about climbing in the back of an open top jeep. After a few stamps of my foot the tour guide put us all under cover, Jenna and I in the cab of the truck and Emily in the car. We hadn't realised that the journey to the station would be so long or have a poor excuse for a road, so we had some pretty pissed off French people in the back getting wet.

The town was built as a resort by the colonial French settlers to offer an escape from the humidity and general insanity of Phnom Penh. The centerpiece of the resort was the grand Bokor Palace Hotel & Casino, complemented by shops, a post office, a church and the Royal Apartments.

The once very popular resort was first abandoned during the late 1940s because of Vietnamese fighting for independence against the French, and finally for good in the early 1970s, when it was overran by the Khmer Rouge. They were driven away by the Vietnamese troops in 1979, and since then the hotels, casino, Catholic church and dozens of other buildings have stood derelict.

It was extremely creepy and the low flying clouds acted as a eery mist settling around the hotel that as the tour guide egerly told us it was haunted. It was covered in the scars of battles with bullet holes in the ballroom of the once lavish hotel.

Reaching the top of Bokor Hill required a 32km grind from sea-level to the top of the 3000ft peak up a broken road that is barely passable under optimum conditions and takes 3 hours to complete in either direction. So when Emily and I climbed into the back of the open top jeep on the way back down we were, in least a little nervous.

As we bumped along the pot holed road all sorts of creepy crawlies fell into our laps. Not to mention the constant whipping of passing grass plants, when every so often our guide yelled, " spiky plant, duck!" At which point we all put our heads between our legs until it was safe to resurface. A couple of times I made the mistake of entering into a conversation with our guide, distracting him from warning me, only to turn around and be smacked in the face by a tree branch.

After a quick cruise along the Teuk Chou we were dropped at the hotel, where we packed ready to move onto Phnom Penh the following day.  

Normally I wouldn't mention anything as tiresome as a bus ride but this has to be the worst ride we have ever, ever been on. We arrived on time only to set off half an hour late due to a failed attempt of fixing the air conditioning.

With a five hour bus ride in front of us and already having to peel ourselves off the plastic seat I was not looking forward to it. It was only that it had no air con, no windows and was somewhere around the 40 degree mark outside it was that they were piling the passengers on, sometimes three to a seat. At one point I turned round to Emily to see sweat pouring off the end of her nose like a leaky tap and ringing out her face cloth so she could reuse it.

The only air we were granted was from the bus door being opened only to let cloud fulls of dust down the entire bus leaving us coughing and spluttering. So when we arrived in Phnom Penh we weren't best pleased to be met by a crowd of men, with their eyes sparkling after just seeing a load of white people on the bus.

Trying to depart the bus was a mission in itself the second stage was trying to get to your bag before someone else dumped it on their tuk tuk. All the time being pushed and shoved and having leaflets put directly in your line of sight. At times I could hear swearing in the general direction in which I was heading comments like "if you don't 'beeping' leave me alone I'm gonna 'beeping' smack you," only to find out when I got to my bag that it was Emily.

We finally managed to squeeze 5 of us in a tuk tuk (the other two were a couple we'd met the day before on the trip, that had been here before and knew a good hotel) and arrive at the hotel which was pleasant enough but most importantly had a nice cold shower. The following day would be my birthday and was excited to spend it in a new place.

• Posted by k_millington on 14/07/2007.
• k_millington's site