Kampot is small, and far less touristy than any other place we've been to. In town, we're down to 5 or 6 hello's per hour, which I believe is our record for south-east Asia. This picks up when we drive out of town for the day to check out the nearby Phnom Chhork cave (sounds like "pnom chork"). Kids yell hello as we drive by, and it reminds me of how as kids we used to pump our fist in the air at passing log trucks to get the drivers to honk their horns. We say hello hello and weave around bicycles, cattle and washouts.
The hand-drawn map our host gave us does an excellent job of getting us out of town, off the highway and down a few side roads to a nearby lake, but it fails to help us find the route to the cave. We drive up and down the road that we think the cave is located on, and a few locals are good sports at trying to figure out what we're saying in very bad Khmer ("Phnom Chhork?"). Here's the view off the road:
In the end, we give in and negotiate with a local boy who offers to take us there and be our guide.
His name is Jyana. He goes to school in the morning and works as a guide in the afternoons. He likes geography and art, he's 14 and speaks Khmer and English "and a little French, Spain and Australia." He hops on the back of our scooter and the three of us drive a few kilometers down a completely different side road where we finally find the cave. Here we run into three other boys - one watches over our scooter in the "parking lot" while the other two tag along and help show us the sights.
"This your boyfriend?" Jyana asks. Cambodians ask me this a lot and always sound a little bored at first. They perk up when they find out we're married. Jyana's pretty excited. "You have children? Why no?" Maybe he's hoping to see pictures.
As we walk around the caves, we trade words back and forth. Pierre and I have been making an effort to learn one word a day in each place we visit. Sounds easy enough, but some days we have to fudge a bit and count each of the words in a phrase we learn as our "word of the day." Our snack in Skuon taught us the word for spider (a-ping) along with mango (svai) and pineapple (man-ooa). The boys get us back onto word-a-day track by teaching us: elephant (dum-rai, rhymes with "eye"), pig (jiroo'), cow (go), bat (brat-yo) and dog (ch-gai). They also tweak our "hello" which we've been pronouncing wrong and when said properly sounds like "Seuss Day."
In return, we teach them a few French phrases they can use with tourists, like "there are 132 steps" and "no problem." At the top of the stairs there's a great view of the countryside and the fields we just passed through:
The kids take us in and show us some of the famous stalactites, like the elephant (you can kind of make it out in this picture, behind Jyana):
Further inside the cave is the main attraction, a brick temple. "Seven century" one of the boys tells us. It's in amazing shape, and is built around a stalactite that functions as part of the temple.
The cave is cool and - though, in addition to the five of us, there are monks, a few women and toddlers - the spot is quiet and calm.
The boys take us through another side cave for a bit. "Attention la tete," says Jyana. "Mind your head mind your head mind your head," says another one of the boys. The tallest boy is 16, as is the shortest boy. The boys say something to him and he seems embarassed - he knows he looks a lot younger. "Sixteen you're here," I say to him and hold my hand flat at the height of his head, several inches shorter than my own. "Seventeen, eighteen you're here," I say and raise my hand up higher than Pierre's head. They think that's pretty funny. We ask if they have girlfriends. They think that's pretty funny, too.
We walk back to our scooter - off the road to our right we notice a nearby field with the Danger Mines sign, complete with red flags and spray paint. A couple of field hands step over one of the spray painted lines and cut across the field on a well-worn path.
Negotiations take place in the parking lot with our parking attendant and the two boys that tagged along - we pay, then drive Jiana back to his town and settle our tab with him.
Day 95 is also a red letter day for my handpainted sign collection. If I lived here, I'd collect them. (My plan: make an offer to the owner to a) buy the sign and b) commission a new hand-painted sign for them.)
Many of them are for wedding photographers:
Some are for hair salons:
...and there are lots for scooter garages.
photo credits: P, P, P, P, P, P, D, D, D, D, D, D,
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