After a 'French Breakfast' in the Cafe Laurent, we walked the 30m back to the hotel and waited for the tuk tuk to arrive and take us to the bus terminal. Nobody seems to expect you to make your own way anywhere. Maybe it is all part of the famous Thai generosity of spirit or possibly just to ensure that as many paying customers turn up.
The river that was silent last night had now become a major thoroughfare for motorboats, fishing boats, ferries and barges of all sizes. As we discovered later in the day, there are no streams in this part of South East Asia, just impossibly wide emerald green rivers that must have been a complete bar to all but the most determined before the era of bridge building.
The bus terminal in Kong Koh Krong was functional rather than beautiful, much like the rest of the town that seems to have thrived in a utilitarian fashion on the influx of cross border gamblers arriving from Thailand where the past time is banned. The bus left on time taking people to Sihanoukville on the south coast and the capital Phnom Penh. The large hole in the windscreen had been patched with sealant but the cracks crazed the glass for several feet around. No-one else seemed to mind so neither did we.
We quickly began to climb into the Cardomom Mountains, home to rain forest, leopards and land mines. The forest appeared quickly and the rain followed shortly afterwards. The windscreen resisted the combined efforts of the weather and the bumpy roads that bottomed the suspension every few hundred metres. The road was lined at regular intervals with unambiguous triangular signs in Khmer, the language of Cambodia, warning all concerned not to venture off the highway for fear of land mines. As soon as we crossed the border, the tragic legacy of the three years, seven months and twenty days of Pol Pot's regime became apparent. There are many men, too young to have been injured in the fighting, missing one or both legs, some on crutches and others in wheel chairs.
We passed the summit and descended into the lowlands, crossing more rivers and entering a low geared agriculural area. Rice paddies dotted the savanah with patches of vibrant greenery and animals wandered freely, often on the road. India's respect for the cow is not present here and but for the damage it would have done to the bus, the road would be littered with carcasses. White Oxen and black Water Buffalo grazed and pigs found relief from the heat in mud holes by the road side.
The bus stopped at Sre Ambel bridge for a comfort break. A small community of restaurants and kiosks has grown up by the bridge to supply the traffic but beyond this the area is in decline. The wide river showed no signs of commerce and two sunken vessels blocked the inshore waters on both sides of the channel. Shortly afterwards those destined for Sihanoukville disembarked for another bus waiting at the roadside and we pressed on to National Highway 48 to the Phnom Penh.The land dried gradually and crops required more man made irrigation. Rice is the staple but maize also grows. Cambodia is a moist and fertile land but the forced conversion to an exclusively agrarian economy under the Khmer Rouge between 1972 to 1975 acheived the opposite effect. Planting came to a standstill as up to one third of the population were murdered and famine followed close behind. Only when Vietnamese forces expelled the Khmer Rouge did the long road to recovery begin. The KR started as a pro monarchist insurgency and ended as an ideologically perverted Moaist personality cult. Their true credentials were displayed by the gratuitous and undocumented mine laying in large swathes of the south and west of the country when no purpose was to be served except causing further hardship to the people they claimed to represent. Members of the KR hierarchy remain in government. War crimes are alleged but the pace of prosecution is painfully slow and unlikely to achieve any significant results.
Phnom Penh is a city of 1.3 million people. The road leading to it gradually changes from a ribbon development of shanty towns to smart modern multi storey buildings. On the outskirts we passed the head-quarters and training academies for the Royal Police, Army and Air Force. The monarchy was discredited by its involvement with the disaster of the early 1970's but the new incumbent, King Sihamoni has done much to rehabilitate the institution. Despite this the country remains a one party state under the control of the Cambodian People's Party who appear to have an office in every street.
As the city neared the traffic became denser. On two lane highways, four lane overtaking became more and more common. Might is right in these situations and the poor moped was unceremoniously dumped off the tarmac and onto the dirt on every occassion. Our bus driver was one of the worst offemders but even he hd to give way to oncoming lorries who ruled the road, brutally if necessary. At first I winced as we over took into a blind corner. I quickly learned not to look other than to film a short demonstration of the chaos, to the amusement of the driver.
After five and a half hours we arrived in the teeming metropolis. We were greeted by the usual crowd of hawkers and tuk tuk drivers, but having a hostel booking and a reasonably clear idea of how to get there, we marched into the fading light. The city has sprawled to the edge of the Tonle Sap River, but no further. There is a heavy French influence but an identity distinct from Thailand. The city roads are hazardous to pedestrians. There are crossings, often manned by a police officer but the stream of traffic will never give way. The only way is to take the leap of faith and step into the moving traffic whilst making yourself as visible as possible. The mopeds divert their path by the slightest degree and pass within an inch or two of you. As long as you make no sudden movements, it all works somehow. We quickly learnt to look for and seize any opportunity. A car reversing into the road, a dignitary crossing with an escort or even the traffic chaos following a minor altercation all produced a sufficient break in the flow to get across. What nothing prepares you for is the inexplicable danger presented by vehicles and particulary mopeds driving at speed on the wrong side of the road and into the path of the oncoming traffic. Very quickly two lanes become four and eventually the whole lane discipline breaks down. Everyone takes it in good humour and noone seems to die.
Dumping the bags we headed straight out for Khmer food. Banana Flower salad and Amok curry made instant converts of us. Walking home, the temples and palaces we would see tomorrow were sillouetted against the last rays of light from the dying day. Exhausted by the heat, we watched news of Libyan air strikes with a growing sense of deja vu before falling asleep under a ceiling fan that threatended to come off at any moment.
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