The feeling upon entering Cambodia from Vietnam is similar to that of entering Laos from Thailand. The relaxed nature is palpable in the air. There is a process to get through the customs and such, but unlike almost everybody you meet in Vietnam, the people are almost uniformly chilled out. The tension that seems to pervade the air, particularly in Vietnamese cities is instantaneously dissipated. The airport in Siem Reap reminded me of Rarotonga. Simple, small, but it was a bit nicer and there were a couple more bigg-ish planes. The hotel in Siem Reap we had organised was nice enough to offer us a transfer, one of the perks of using booking.com so much. We were transferred in such a lovely tuk tuk, it was the perfect start which somewhat oddly, became the perfect couple of weeks, from a decidedly less than perfect start. But the warm air, that relaxed feeling, the bugs swarming the lights and the relatively large yet calm roads set a nice tone.

Initially we had headed to Cambodia with the intent of volunteering to help out a charity and some rural children there. A few years ago, we paid for the construction of a water well in the rural areas of Siem Reap Province. A very worthy charity run by Buddhist monks, we initially contacted them a few months before and offered them our time doing whatever they needed from manual labour to anything else, which they said they would be glad to sort out. A little closer to the time it became clear that they hadn’t really understood and that they were essentially trying to plan a visit where we could then give them more money, which sadly we don’t have, and they hadn’t quite realised this as they weren’t exactly planning with our budget in mind. So a few back aand forths later they seemed to get it and offered to hook us up in some schools teaching English for a few weeks, we thought that would be great. So with a few weeks to spare we had booked our flight to Cambodia with the intent of going to the countryside. However, two days before we got there, the monk in question informed us that as it was Buddhist lent, they were restricted and that we couldn’t actually do anything, so they kind of went back to organising a holiday for us. Instead, we simply asked if we could go and see the water well that we had paid for and that was it. Of course they said yes. We decided, somewhat selfishly that as we clearly weren’t allowed to help other people we’d help ourselves and booked in to a yoga and meditation retreat, with some trepidation because I have never done any yoga and I’m not exactly Mr Hippy.

The hotel we had booked was The New Home Hostel. Again, clean and cheap, most importantly near the centre, but out of the way. A friend of mine does operate the Mad Monkey there in Siem Reap, but we were definitely not in the mood for the backpacker style at this time. The place we stayed at served us perfectly. I actually quite like Siem Reap, enough of a blend of Western and Cambodian to be pleasant. There was good coffee available on the street from little huts. The bakeries are good, and even sell everything half price or some other similar offer in the evening. We chose not to do this as Cambodia does have some persistent ants so bread in the room, or any food for that matter is not a smart idea. We had fun in the markets. We opted for the cleaner fish on our feet. Unlike the puny little things that were atop the Laotian waterfall, these were beasts. The feeling as they swarmed my feet was near indescribably funny. I was tearing with laughter as the tickle of their forceful headbutts raced through my soles right to my soul. It was something of a unique feeling. Then it was Conny’s turn and much the same ensued, as the initial shock dies off it becomes oddly pleasant. We sat at a bar and watched the YTC brigades, in elephant pant uniform, trying to look cool as they strode out down pub street, Conny and couldn’t help but snigger and judge, the fiends that we are came out, but we did at least keep the judgemental sniggery amongst ourselves as we people watched with glee.

The day came for our trip to the water well. In a cunning ploy, the monk we chatted to had sneaked a school visit in to the plan and asked if we had any gifts of supplies for the kids. We know this was a cunning ploy, but we appreciated his guile and could stretch to some footballs and pencils and stuff for a small school so we bought them and brought them along. As we started however we did get asked the question, “is there one particular well you want to see?”…puzzled, Conny and I looked at each other.

”well yes, the one we paid for…” we said.

“but there are hundreds, if you wanted to see a specific one you have to tell me a few days in advance”

“But we discussed… but we said ages ago…but we…oh well” we started to think to make a point of it, but in the end gave up. I had told Conny this would happen, she didn’t believe me as she had been liaising for weeks on this and that she had been super clear, but we later came to learn this is part of that Cambodian relaxedness. Details are superfluous to exactly anything nothing other than what a Cambodian has on their agenda, variations on that agenda virtually impossible to communicate and definitely not going to be implemented. So, with a happy smile, we were resigned to enjoy the experience for what it was. Truly, we had a great day. We hung with the monks, even helped them with their French conversation as they were learning it. We went to tour some of the rural areas and saw plenty of their wells, just not ours. They took us to where the guys build the wells before digging and placing them in the ground, we ate horribly fruit from trees, we visited the school and had a great time, I even managed to punch a monk in the face by accident, then touch his head in the same clumsy shenanigan (touching a monks head, apparently is a big no no, but it was my immediate uncontrollable reaction to accidentally smacking him in the chops). Luckily he was understanding about it. The simple joy from a school full of kids getting four footballs and playing with them, that is a joy I will never forget. Playing with them, seeing their life, their joy and their enthusiasm, despite not being able to communicate in anything other than smiles is truly a wonder.

You might think my view of the monks and their charitable work is negative if you read that last part in a certain light. However, you would be entirely wrong. The whole debacle I merely see as a comical farce. We foolish Westerners wanting to help but not knowing anything. The monks trying but not getting organised as we expect, knowing what we know now, we were just foolish to expect it. These guys essentially do all they can to help the poor and the children get an education and better themselves. The water well work is truly a life changer for those families. The kids that go to the school we visited, wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for those wells. They would be walking for hours and miles a day to find potable water. The crops that they can grow from them allows for trade or a better diet. The work truly is invaluable and when a well only costs a couple of hundred dollars to build, it is a sad thing that they have to search high and low for donations. I really could not praise the CBAVC enough and I thoroughly enjoyed meeting them and seeing first hand what they do, there is zero negativity on my part, despite my drole tale.

Further still, it was the shenanigans that brought us to the Hariharaliya retreat. Without the last minute change of plans we would not have even dreamed it. It was truly a fantastic twist of fate. The essence of Hariharilaya is a yoga and meditation retreat, for people of all sorts of abilities. I had never even done yoga in my life, the shit attempt on Rarotonga on the veranda doesn’t count. Truly this place touched my heart and opened my world, so I will always be pleased things didn’t work out as planned. I shall however leave the details to the stand alone Hariharaliya piece that follows this, as the really special places deserve to be on their own.

From Hariharalaya we left in tuk tuk convoy, all with plans to meet up in the evening at Pub street in Siem Reap, we did, and a quiet night was had with Conny and I heading off reasonably early after fried ice cream and a wander around the market. Somewhat bizarrely amongst the usual tourist tat available at the market, it was surprising to see some genuinely nicely made clothes, with intricate patterns and some cuts that appear to be more unique to this part of the world. Still, I was mesmerised by the ridiculously ornate pipes. It is almost enough to make me want to take up smoking.

The next day we had arranged a tuk tuk to pick us up early and head out to Angkor Wat. A truly remarkable place, we only saw a few of the temples of this ginormous complex. The thing that struck me, is that it had and is being slowly put back together after various periods of neglect had seen it turn practically to rubble. When you look at the pictures of pre and post rennovation, you could be forgiven for switching the word to reconstruction.

That said, the enormity and the intricacy of the place and its stone work is easy to understate. It is super beautiful, especially as the paint of time and life have coloured in the masterful canvas. I love where nature reclaims the work of man. Mosses and lychens are a personal favourite of mine. The greens and the yellows that they smatter or in some cases flat out cover the old stone with just stop me dead in my tracks. I love to see the details hidden or highlighted and I still haven’t mentioned the weeds and the changes of the stones through weathering and such. Some of the temples, are almost entirely reclaimed by tree and vine. The one they call Tomb Raider (a scene from the Angelina Jolie movie was apparently made there) is a wonderous harmony of symbiosis between tree and structure. It looks as if the second you move either tree or stone the whole thing will come tumbling down. That said, they still also require structural supports, but looking at these great structures with giant sinuous trees and vines wrapped through and amongst it all is quite stunning. As ever, I am marvelled by the extent of the twattiness of humans. Seeing fucking graffiti here and there boiling my piss some more.

There are sections where we walked through the woods or through various smaller temples. The elephants in the walls were cool and stuff, but less impressive and totally saddening were the real elephants with fat Westerners atop them struggling around the park. I can not fathom how someone thinks the taming of these beasts for their jollies is acceptable, especially given how this has been documented as essentially a universally inhumane practice. But these fuckers were loving it, bouncing around all belly laughs and points with there fat fucking fingers. The elephants look miserable (I am sure I am interpreting the fuck out of this the exact way I choose, given that I don’t actually know how a happy elephant looks, and that they probably generally look quite sad, but I do not fucking care, I’m right, I know I am) to the point where Conny automatically said out loud “I’m sorry you handsome beast” to which another passer by, an American lady echoed her sentiment and said “I know, heart breaking isn’t it, aren’t we just disgusting?”. Hit the nail on the head.

The main temple is a true spectacle. Fucking massive. It is beautiful, we took the time to have a wander, I always find a sign that reads “Beware, monkey attack” to be amusing. We walked along the flagstones to the old temple and climbed the stairs to take in the breathtaking views. Also the gentle, relief pattern carved into the window sills struck me as particularly stunning. Massively detailed floral patterns on huge stones. As did the huge columns with some kind of prayer or verse carved into their entirety. I was more amazed at the folk who came in the same time as us, walked to the old temple, and then turned around without going in. Fucking baffling.

We headed back to town and met up once more with some of our favourite Hariharaliya cohorts. We had a great night once more full of laughter, too much food and some good chat finished with coffee and once more, ice cream. The folk I met there I will be happy to call friends evermore, some of them utterly brilliant lights in our sky that are pure joy to know and see.

We left Siem Reap, not with heavy heart, but with happy, full ones. Next stop is on to Kratie, where we would meet up with a friend, Lukas, from Switzerland who along with his partner had been the owners of our favourite eatery in the Gstaad neck of the woods.

We arrived in Kratie and went to the Tonlé guest house as instructed. We weren’t going to stay there but this was one of the places that Lukas works at and was close to his house. The thing is, the heavens had opened just before we arrived, and when I say opened, I mean it was like that God dude had picked up the Mekong in his hands and had dropped it upon us for fun. We hijacked the wifi at the Tonlé and let Lukas know we were there but that we could wait it out with Uno and the Green Tea that the guest house very kindly offered us. Wait we did, but lo and behold even before the heavens had ceased too pour, Lukas showed up. He is here in Cambodia having recently completed Hotel School in Switzerland, to help the locals streamline their businesses and make them more efficient, but at the same time, just tweak them enough to have those things that might make or break a visit from the western tourist. The idea is not to make a bunch of western hotels, it is to keep the charm of what is Cambodia, but just bring the styles of service up to standard that us needy folk could appreciate. Things like kitchen hygiene and pleasant table side service. A good example is that there was one hotel, completely redid their bathroom in the restaurant, only they neglected to install a basin to wash ones hands afterwards! That is soon to be remedied. Over the next few days we got to visit a few of the places that Lukas and his friends worked in. We ate more western food than we had in a long time, but we did also enjoy some good local stuff. The Mlop Dong (Shadow of the Coconut Tree, if you are interested) was great. We spent the day there, working on service skills and table side order taking. It was lovely to get to know the lives and tales of the young, cooks, waiters and waitresses there. The waitresses were super charming. They are only in the infancy of their English learning so they have limited communicative abilities with us, but we had a secret weapon. Pisey. Pisey is the translator that Lukas works with on a daily basis. A quiet gentle soul, but a lovely young chap. Essentially self taught in regard too English. I found it particularly funny when it would look like he would be paying his attention somewhere else or watching a football match on his phone, but if someone was trying to converse with someone in Khmer, he would just pipe up where necessary, in the politest fashion staying out of the conversation unless required. Lucky for us he chose to spend some of his free time with us. That meant a; ordering at restaurants was much less hassle and b; we would have the pleasure of his quiet company. He accompanied us one night to Cute, a barbecue restaurant and managed to order me some great food, better still, he managed to order the others some great steak too. It was so tender that in fact we decided that they must have simply cut it straight off a cow. Incidentally, there had been a cow dead on the road mere metres from the door due to some traffic accident. The question is, was this cow ran over to order?

Kratie, a small time a bit off the beaten tourist track is a quaint little place. Still has some of the French influence and most importantly has some more of those pesky Irrawaddy dolphins. We took a trip to see them, this time we were closer to them and there were more than in Laos (the population is estimated around 70). They are wonderful creatures, still a privilege to see them once more.

We stayed in Lukas’ apartment initially with him and his lovely room mate Sofia, a Greek/Swiss girl with perfect Swiss German and they were super welcoming from the start. Better still, they taught us a brand new card game, that we have picked up and continued, Conny is much happier than with Uno because she continues to trounce me every time. A couple of days in two of Lukas and Sofia’s friends who also work in the same programme came for a few days, it meant we took the couch but still, mighty fine of them to put up with us. The other thing we got to experience in Kratie, was KTV. Cambodian Karaoke. It is an odd thing, because you rent a room, and more often than not you can order a lady or two to keep you company. You can even take them to an “exercise room” if you like. We had met up with the group we went with at a restaurant. On our table were two lovely girls, 19, 20 years old, who it transpired were some of these companions. If I’m honest I’m not sure what to think about it. These lovely young, pleasant girls, who were going to sing and dance with us, might also end up bumping uglies with one of the older dudes in the group for a price. The group itself was mostly made of rubber plantation workers, and the owner of the rubber plantation and his wife, along side us and a couple of locals, Pieter and Julie. Pieter is a particularly sound fellow. A dutch chap, looks like a giant Jurgen Klopp, or sometimes, depending on his hair David Guetta, but a really nice guy. We had many a chat about the world in life and general and Conny and I are both all the better for making his acquaintence. Pieter was essentially my singing partner on the Karaoke. My favourite was Always On My Mind, but there were many songs, both solo and duet from both of us. Good job we did too as there weren’t too many of us getting amongst it if I’m honest but Pieter and I truly gave it some and I left the place sore of throat but happy of heart.

Our last day was just about perfect. We moseyed across to Koh Trong, an island in the Mekong.

We went for a bike ride around the island and the afternoon was perfect as we just chilled at a lovely resort that Sofia works with, chilling in the awesome pool, even during a rain storm. Food, cards and fun all afternoon with the crew, Pieter managed to take the greatest photo of me ever, I swear if L’Oreal did beard shampoo, both I and this photo would definitely be worth it.

We left the Tonlé on the last day with a belly full of their breakfast (we ate there every day pretty much, it was delicious, particularly enamoured by their Tortilla for 1$50 I was) and borded the bus for Phnomh Penh.

We arrived at Phnomh Penh with the intent of staying only a couple of nights, which was good, our hotel was not exactly delightful. The plan was simply to go to the prison museum and then on to the killing fields. This is not a joyous thing to see or experience, but one we thought necessary. We actually learned a lot about the genocide, we even met 2 of the 7 survivors of the prison in question, from the tens of thousands that were taken there, tortured and didn’t survive. It really was a devastatingly cruel time for humanity. Lerning how the interrogations and the executions took place, and seeing some of the evidence is truly startling and heartbreakingly so. I’m still a wonder as to how this could happen in such recent history but I am at once reminded that the conditions leading to that time were not such a great stretch from today’s situation in much of the world. Previously strong economies suffering, looking towards populist leaders and right wing insular thought through which to pin the blame on the dark guy or the one who speaks funny, or doesn’t believe in our God. The aim of Pol Pot’s revolution was to start again without the corruption of the modern world, without the heady thoughts of superiority among the educated towards the poor and the under educated. Don’t get me wrong I have zero sympathy for his cause and the methods were fucking devastating. But while it might be a leap to look at the US for example, or even the UK, and think that they could end up in such a dire place for humanity, it is merely only a few small steps away should we let them be taken. The kind of folk that votes for Trump, and loves their guns, and loves the very breath that falls from President Orangutan’s lips are also the ones that would more likely see any removal of him as an attack on their country, or their freedom and act to stop it with violence. In the UK those who would oppose the Brexit vote or would seek to reverse some of the silly notions going around about immigration and such, are not enough to sway the tide if the other side get any more motivation. The seed is sewn for nationalist thought to grow and corrupt and sadly there is a place where this thought is deemed acceptable these days in the UK, worse still, those with such thoughts are far more likely to react with violence should things not go their way. In such circumstances you can but fear for those who don’t fit their plan. It is a bleak and extreme view I take here I know. I am aware that it is unlikely, but do you think that those supporting Hitler saw it coming? And when it did, were they surprised by the inhumanity come as a surprise? I don’t think so. The ill will and the horrible consequences were creepers. I just think, and couldn’t help ut think, when walking through those memorials to such horror, and seeing the graves or the tree where Khmer men smashed the heads of babies to save bullets, that it is a dark step for humanity to take and a frightening thing in today’s climate. The other thing to note is that Cambodia, prior to the Vietnam war was not some poor underdeveloped nation. Yes there was rural illiteracy and poverty, but the nation as a whole was the most prosperous of the SE Asian nations, had developed a cosmopolitan city life under French colonialism and was a wealthy country compared to it’s neighbours. Remember, I am saying that it IS a giant leap from where we are to something as terrible, but it is only a few short steps if we aren’t careful.

From one bleak thing on to the next, dinner was a sorry affair. Vitking House sucks balls. The food was sorry and overpriced. Cardboard meat substitutes, a sorry atmosphere and a boss that just exuded prickiness (probably a bit rich coming from me given my management days!). Truly awful. Altogether sorry. Don’t go. On the flipside however, just around the corner from the prison museum is a cafe called K cafe. Excellent little place, with a real nice breakfast with in house baked bread and coffee ground there. Somewhat bizarrely while eating said breakfast, we even happened upon Joel (well I think he was called Joel…it has been years and I didn’t check his name, even if not, he is called Joel now) and a girl he works with. At first unsure Conny said “oh…he’s from Nice” looking over my shoulder, so I had a look, and indeed it was him. He used to frequent the bars that both Conny and I worked in. Odd that we should stumble into him half a world a way but it was definitely a pleasant surprise. To be honest he was always one of our favourite, more polite and decent French regulars. We enjoyed a chat as he told us he was working for a French news agency and this was his local breakfast spot. A positive aside, they also in the cafe have a small shop, selling the wares of local disabled folk, which is always a nice thing to do.

With some work, which shall be explained fully in the Palm Beach resort piece (for that is another thing we feel deserves such a piece) we booked a suitable ticket to get to Sihanoukville on time to catch the boat to the aforementioned resort for a week on Koh Rong. To be honest, it’s amazing, but I’ll tell you about that later.