Cambodia pt. 1: The Road to Kampot

Hello, xin chào, and ជំរាបសួរ (chom reap suor) !

Here in Hanoi, the arrival of April means we're inching into summer—highs are starting to reach the 90s, and the unrelenting humidity pushes it up to feels like 100°F. Last night at 9pm, it was 82°F, feels like 93°F. At 9pm. Three hours after sunset. The next four months are going to be interesting.

About two weeks ago, meanwhile, I took a convoluted trip to Cambodia. Last January, I had visited Siem Reap and the temples of Angkor, but it was for only one full day—on which I came down with a nasty cold. Angkor was spectacular, but Siem Reap might be my least favorite city I've ever been to. I wanted to check out a different side of the country, so I pulled out my Lonely Planet SE Asia book for inspiration. I settled upon a visit to Kampot, a coastal town not far from the Vietnamese border, and Phnom Penh, the capital.

Kampot's riverfront at sunset.

As the trip approached, I realized that I didn't know too much about the places I was going to see—but that often makes for an especially interesting trip. I was interested in Kampot for its colonial architecture and scenic landscapes, but I pulled the trigger when I figured out I could [relatively] easily reach it via a cheap domestic flight from Hanoi to Phú Quốc, Vietnam's tropical beach destination.

Waiting to board the ferry in Phú Quốc.

Step 1: Catch a 2-hour flight to Phú Quốc at 8am. Step 1.5: Accidentally oversleep and struggle to call a Grab taxi, making for a 7:20am arrival at the airport. (I was not worried given that security is so laidback on domestic flights in Vietnam; I had my boarding pass; and my flight was almost certainly going to be at least a little delayed—and it was.) Step 2: Get a cab to Phú Quốc's ferry pier. Step 3: Take a 1.5-hour ferry across the 35 miles separating Phú Quốc from mainland Vietnam. The ferry was basically a giant, double-decker catamaran that was mostly empty.

Because I am so approachable and was the only foreigner onboard, the chief engineer almost immediately sat down next to me and asked if he could practice his English with me during the trip. Linh told me all about his life and his family—he used to work on container ships all over SE Asia; he was applying for a visa so he could take his son to visit Vancouver; and he and his wife wanted to open an English center in Hà Tiên, the town on the mainland where the ferry was heading. He also told me about how the lightly populated, little islands we were passing only had a few hours of electricity every other day, and they were in the process of laying an undersea power line to the mainland.

He took me to see the upper deck, which had beautiful views and a wonderful breeze—but it was only tolerable in the scant shade. It also appeared to be the smoking area, so we were periodically joined by several older Vietnamese men. He gave me free instant noodles and free Vietnamese iced coffee, and then he showed me the unbelievably posh first-class seating for the last 15-20 minutes.

He also showed me this strange YouTube video featuring an old, whacked-out Australian man in Vietnam rambling about stuff that even I couldn't understand. But Linh needed my help understanding the meanings of "G'day mate" and "bullshit." Just after that, we docked in Hà Tiên, and we added each other on Facebook. It's entertaining interactions like this one that make me wonder why Vietnam has such a reputation for being unfriendly to tourists.

Approaching the Vietnamese-Cambodian border.

Step 4: Hop on the back of a motorbike for the two-hour trip to Kampot. There was a man at the dock in Hà Tiên who offered to make the trip for $25, which I thought was totally worth the extra money to avoid taking a bus. Step 4.5: Cross the border into Cambodia. At this point, I was stunned at how smooth and straightforward the trip had been, so I was expecting everything to go wrong at this point. Even though the officials at land borders in SE Asia are notorious for their corruption and inefficiency, the whole process took maybe 20 minutes total. I had to pay a dollar to exit Vietnam—whatever, right—but otherwise, no bribes necessary, and my Cambodian visa was processed almost immediately.

Somewhere on a mostly paved Cambodian highway.

The only real downside I would encounter would be occasionally getting nicked by a flying piece of gravel. Cambodia's infrastructure is kind of a mess—but more on that in my upcoming Phnom Penh post. Well, I guess one other downside.

Oops.

Turns out that spending two hours sitting in direct, southerly sun in the tropics was enough to burn my pasty left thigh. Lesson learned. Meanwhile, I made it to my hostel in Kampot! I was truly amazed at how easy it was, but I needed a nap.

Teuk Chhu River at sunset.

I woke up a little before sunset, so I went to watch it from the riverfront, which was just down the block.

My bowl of amok and rice.

For dinner, I tried what could be considered Cambodia's national dish, fish amok. It's essentially a coconut cream-based curry flavored with galangal. Chunks of catfish and assorted vegetables are added, and it's all steamed together in banana leaves. It combined a lot of my favorite flavors, so I was a fan.

My bottle of local cider.

Next, I went to check out a highly rated Irish pub along the buzzing riverfront. I was really impressed at what a cool place it was. They were playing wonderfully eclectic music, and there were coins from all over the world embedded in the counters. I also decided to try the Kampot Cider for $2.

(Side note: Though Cambodia has its own currency, the riel, U.S. Dollars are what's used in practice. Not the coins though—amounts less than a dollar are converted at a rate of 4000 riel to the dollar, meaning that I was using two different currencies at the same time while I was there.)

One thing was really odd, however: almost all of the other patrons were middle-aged white men by themselves. Two of the bartenders were beautiful, young Khmer women, and these men called both of them "Mom." It gets better, though: I overheard the next guy over at the bar complaining about how his mother gets grumpier every time he goes home (to somewhere in Eastern Europe, it sounded). Due to its extremely low cost of living and easy-to-obtain visas, Cambodia embodies a lot of tropes about the slimier side of tourism and expat communities in SE Asia. (I found out later that Cambodia offers retirement visas, which require only that you be at least 55, no other documentation required.)

Panorama of the Teuk Chhu River.

A colonial-era shophouse featuring the town's ubiquitous bougainvillea.

The next morning, I rented a surprisingly nice motorbike from my grimy, $5-a-night hostel. I rode around Kampot's colonial center, which dates back to the town's short-lived time as a French port in the 19th century.

The Cambodian flag flying on another shophouse.

Entrance to KAMA.

To start the day, I had a smoothie at KAMA, the Kampot Arts & Music Association. One of Cambodia's innumerable social enterprises/non-profits/NGOs, the cafe-cum-gallery serves as a training center for marginalized youth and sponsors art initiatives in Kampot. It was a really lovely place!

Kampot's famous Durian Roundabout.

I had to get a picture.

After grabbing some sunscreen, I took my motorbike and headed out into the countryside. On the way, though, I needed to stop for a picture of Cena Laundry, which I found hilarious when I saw it on my way into town the day before.

A shack among the salt fields.

The first stop was a road through Kampot's desolate salt fields. Oddly enough, producing sea salt is one of Kampot Province's major industries. Laborers basically haul massive amounts of seawater from the coast a few kilometers away to these fields, where the intense sun makes the water evaporate.

On the road through the salt fields.

At this point, I was starting to get nauseous and lightheaded, which the heat did not help. Soon I had to pull over and sit down under the shade of a derelict shed—I was worried it was food poisoning or a migraine. Eventually I took off my helmet to get more air, and my nausea immediately dissipated. Turns out my helmet was too tight for my stupid giant head. (Before setting out I had actually asked the hostel for a bigger helmet, but they didn't have any bigger ones.)

A dirt road in the Kampot countryside.

A building that looked like some sort of village hall.

Now that I figured out I couldn't wear the helmet for more than 30-40 minutes at a time, I ventured further out into the countryside to visit the cave temple of Phnom Chhngok. It took a lot of very slow riding (roughly 15 mph maximum) to get there, passing farms and, on one road, mini dump trucks. (Cambodia is going through a massive construction boom right now, partially as a result of a recent influx of Chinese investment.)

An ox looking back at me.

One of innumerable signs promoting the CPP.

Something interesting I had been noticing since entering Cambodia were the omnipresent signs for the Cambodian People's Party (CPP), which has ruled the country since the fall of the Khmer Rouge in 1979. One of the men on the sign is Hun Sen, a former Khmer Rouge official who has been prime minister since 1985. Though Cambodia also has a monarchy and allows other parties in its sham elections, the country is effectively ruled by a one-party dictatorship. In Cambodia's Parliament, for example, all but four of 187 seats in Parliament are held by the CPP.

The little bridge over to Phnom Chhngok.

Entrance to Phnom Chhngok.

Of course, I ended up cornered by three kids roughly 7-9 years old who were offering to be my guide. They wanted to lead me into the cave through an unmarked opening off the trail. I told them I just wanted to take the stairs up, but because I'm too nice and thought it'd make for an interesting story, I relented and followed them.

Not the kids that guided me, but this gives you a good idea of what I was in for.

I shakily started following them across some boulders, but then we started going up. My camera was clanking against the rocks as I clambered to and fro, so I eventually accepted one of the kids' offer to hold it for me. They all seemed to be very entertained by how much I was struggling.

One of the shafts in the cave. Not sure when I managed to take this picture.

These children guided me to grab this vine and use that natural foothold—many of which were at or above knee level and roughly half the size of one of my feet.  Somehow we kept going up towards a few light shafts, and if I took a wrong step, I would've almost certainly fallen several feet into a crevice. At one point, they also shone their flashlight up to show me sleeping bats that were almost too close for comfort.

The main cavern of Phnom Chhngok.

There were a handful of points where I thought I was going to have to turn around, but I was already in too deep to turn back. We finally made it to the main cavern, which was super underwhelming, as the temple was more of a shrine and mostly in ruins.

Looking across the Kampot countryside towards the Damrei Mountains.

Drenched in sweat, I exited via the stairs and gave the kids a few dollars as compensation. The best part of Phnom Chhngok was actually the view of the countryside at the entrance to the cavern (my impromptu spelunking notwithstanding).

A canal near Phnom Chhngok.

The so-called Secret Lake.

After some more very slow—but scenic—riding, I headed over to La Plantation, one of Kampot's famous peppercorn plantations. Kampot pepper is apparently highly sought-after, lauded as the finest in the world by people who are presumably qualified to say so. The label "Kampot pepper" has even been geographically protected by the EU, as is done for champagne and parmesan cheese.

Looking out to the fields of La Plantation.

One of the buildings at La Plantation.

Opened by a French couple in 2013, La Plantation is a massive farm with two restaurants and a guesthouse. As with many other businesses I encountered in Cambodia, there's also a substantial charitable arm supporting a neighboring primary school. (After decades of internal strife and violence, Cambodia remains a very poor country—its GDP [PPP] per capita is the lowest in East Asia, on par with Zambia and Bangladesh.)

My plate of lok lak and iced tea.

They were running free tours, but I opted to eat and take in the view. I tried a Khmer dish called lok lak, beef sautéed in a sauce using peppercorns and other locally grown spices. The basic flavor reminded me a lot of sweet-and-sour dishes at Chinese places back home, but this was much more aromatic—and the kick of Kampot pepper was just strong enough without being overpowering. I'm admittedly not a huge fan of black pepper, but I was sold.

A stupa in the middle of the countryside.

Getting back on the mostly paved highway.

I whiled away more time at La Plantation than I was planning, so I decided to make my way back into town and have a drink on the river for sunset.

My passionfruit martini and the sunset.

I took advantage of the happy hour at a cool restaurant that repurposed Kampot's old fish market. I got 35% of a $4.75 passionfruit martini, but when I tried it I realized that I've never had an actual dry martini before. It was… not my thing. It sure looked pretty, though.

So ended my Kampot adventure. The next morning I'd endure what was possibly the worst bus ride I've ever been on—but more on that in my upcoming Phnom Penh post. Check out more photos from Kampot here!

Till next time,
Gray