Surprisingly enough the road from Phnom Penh to Sihanoukville (also called Kompong Som) is excellent. The 230km trip took four hours on a very comfortable bus. The guesthouse in Phnom Penh had arranged for us to be picked up from the bus station and taken to another guesthouse on the south side of town near Ochheuteal beach but like many things in Cambodia much of the information got distorted along the way. In Sihanoukville a dapper young man was proudly waiting for us and holding a sign which read "Mr. Ian (me), Mr. Chaim (Glen) and Mr. John (Sara) - Welcome to Sihanoukville from Okay Guesthouse". The guy was nice enough and after a little debate about the cost and how far away it was we each jumped on the back of a motorcycle and followed our host. The Guesthouse was unspectacular but cheap and close to the beach.
Motorbike taxis taking a break to watch the boxing
POVERTY
That evening we sat on the beach and had dinner while the sun set over the Gulf of Kompong Som. It sounds wonderful but we were pestered the whole time by scores of children wanting us to buy chips and snacks or ankle bracelets and the relentless homeless children begging for 'yum-yum' and pleading for the scraps of food left on our plates. At times it's difficult looking past the poverty but for our own sanity we have to ignore it, or pretend to ignore it, and keep to our own agenda. As a kid my parents told us to finish everything on our plates because there are people starving in Africa and it would be wrong to waste good food. Here I am in two minds because when we sit down to eat we've always been aware of people watching and waiting to see if you finish all your food. The starving people aren't in Africa anymore, they're standing beside you and looking into your eyes and rubbing your arm and whimpering - and that is something I'll never get used to.
HE AIN'T HEAVY, HE'S MY BROTHER
The next day was a tough one because Glen was leaving to catch the boat for the border town of Koh Kong. It reminded me of Dahab, Egypt in May 1998 when we parted company, but the circumstances were very different this time. In 1998 I wasn't sure when I would see him again but this time around when I saw him ride off on the back of a motorcycle with his unkempt hair blowing in the wind I knew that we would see each other in New Zealand next month.
BACK THROUGH PHNOM PENH TO KRATI
Sara and I have decided to return to Phnom Penh, a city which we both really like, and then heard further north up the Mekong River to a place called Krati. It's there we plan to spend a few days relaxing in the peace and quiet of small town Cambodia and maybe try and spot the endangered Irrawaddy Dolphins that live in the river. Any further north than Krati is not highly recommended at this stage unless we want to find unexploded mine fields or a Khmer Rouge sleeper cell.
The Royal Palace, Phnom Penh
Spending more time than anticipated in Cambodia has meant that we are spending less time in Thailand, in particular the south and the beaches, but perhaps we'll get another chance yet.
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