We spend a day in Kampot recovering from our hike, and then catch the bus to Kompong Cham, which is northeast of Phnom Penh. The ride is quieter than our trip on Day 94 for some reason - the bus stops in Skuon again so we take the opportunity to enjoy the spiders again. Every time we do this during our trip, several of the other tourists on the bus are curious what we're snacking on, and when they find out they're surprised and revolted. The latter seems insulting to Cambodians, especially since it's kind of a local delicacy and where we're standing is definitely "local." But their genuine surprise surprises me - do they not have guidebooks? Have they not read anything about Cambodia? I'm not saying we're brave or special - after all, we have decided not to eat the deep friend cockroaches and crickets - I just find it odd. Where exactly did they think they were coming when they bought their ticket?
Maybe the bus horn is getting to me.
We arrive early afternoon and settle into the Mekong Hotel, which has by far the widest hallways I have ever seen, at least seven metres across. Perhaps the architect was trying to echo the wide Mekong River, which flows in front of the hotel, but more likely, the hallway served another purpose at one point, but is now just left empty.
Kompong Cham is not much bigger than Kampot was, and is very relaxing. We walk around on Day 100 and then rent bikes on Day 101 to explore a bit further. The area is known for a long bamboo bridge that the locals build every dry season to connect the mainland to a nearby island. It's bouncy but sturdy, and we pay a toll of 1US$ to cross (I don't know what the locals pay).
We bike around the island for a few hours. The roads are mostly dirt...
...and the streets are busy with students and farmers travelling here and there. At one point, when we stop to put sunblock on Pierre, a small elderly man, wrapped in a sarong and holding a walking stick, crosses the street and stands right in front of us. He points at my travel-size container of sunblock, and says something in Khmer. He sounds angry, and from his gestures and tones seems to be saying something like "what are you punks up to now?" I point to the lotion, mimic putting it on Pierre's cheeks, point to the sun. He seems to understand, and finds it pretty funny. He's pretty tan himself, and sunblock probably sounds pretty silly. He laughs even harder when I put some on Pierre's face, patting it like I'm putting on aftershave. Pierre finds it less amusing, but he's a good sport. Sometimes the toll fee's in dollars, sometimes it's in jokes.
While we bike, Pierre chats for a while with a local high school student who joins us for awhile. He invites us home, but we're not sure if we're being touted or not (he started the conversation with "do you need a guide") so we decline. We work our way back way we came and then head over the real bridge across the Mekong...
...to check out the old French lighthouse across the river from our hotel:
The place is quiet except for a few kids playing near by and the occassional passing vehicle:
It's possible to climb up to the top - it's steep, but the ladders are well-tended and sturdy and the view is worth it:
We have breakfast several times at the Lazy Mekong Daze restaurant, which has excellent fruit shakes, generous servings of baguette and a lovely waitress named Thida. Our first morning she pulls up a chair and puts a handwritten vocabulary list in front of us. "How do you say this?" she asks. We go over the list (advice, capital city,...) and cover a few grammar points for good measure (what is either; what is the difference between to have and to have to). She works seven days a week; she's been here for three months and is teaching herself English. We talk a bit over the course of two mornings, and trade emails when we leave.
The town is small and off the tourist trail just enough so that the locals are really friendly. We run into one tuk-tuk driver several times a day. He always greets us with "Hello Canada." I call him Many Brothers: "I think you must have 3 or 4 brothers," I say to him. "We see you everywhere." As expected, he's one of the last people we see at the bus station on Day 102. Goodbye Canada.
photo credits: P, P, P, P, D, D, P, P, P
No comments:
Post a Comment