Cambodia, Naturally Beautiful

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Phnom Penh was an interesting city, but dirty and overcrowded.  We were not unhappy to be leaving after spending four days there.  Our next destination was Kep, located on the coast near the Vietnamese border.  It was a great place to enjoy the peace and quiet of the countryside, and experience rural Cambodia up close.

We stayed at Kep Lodge, which was perched on the side of a mountain with approximately 12 bungalows facing the ocean.  Ours was the largest wooden bungalow with two separate adjoining rooms, and a long porch that stretched across the front of the entire building.  It had two hammocks at either end, which were used often during the stay.

The Lodge was owned by an expat from Switzerland.  There were a lot of Germans and Swiss in this part of the world.  Most ran hotels and restaurants, and presumably lived in Cambodia and Vietnam because the costs are absurdly lower than their home countries.  They certainly gave up many conveniences, but no doubt was worth it to live an idyllic lifestyle in a tropical paradise.

The restaurant at the Lodge was excellent; however, we could not afford to eat there every meal.  Therefore, we needed to find a grocery store to buy food to prepare on our own.  Kep was a little town, and had a very small store with few choices.  We were told Kampot was a much larger town about 10 miles away, and that it had several grocery stores.  After a 20 minute tuk-tuk ride we arrived in the alleged metropolis, and quickly discovered the options were only slightly better than in Kep.  Fortunately peanut butter and bread are almost universally available, as sandwiches provided nourishment for lunch and sometimes dinner on many occasions.

According to many French chefs, the best pepper in the world comes from the area around Kep.  We visited a pepper plantation and saw pepper plants 10-feet tall.  They were covered with small round peppercorns, which are harvested and dried mostly for export.  During the tuk-tuk ride to the Vietnamese border we saw saltpans where seawater is pumped into a large area surrounded by berms.  Once the water evaporates, the salt is then scraped off the surface and processed.  It seemed only logical that a place famous for its pepper would also be a major salt producer.

The area around Kep and Kampot was covered in lush green rice paddies.  Many of the paddies only contained muddy water.  In those men and women labored in the back braking time-honored tradition of planting individual new plants, which would eventually grow and cover the paddy.  Harvested rice was put on tarps along the side of the road to dry.  Water buffalo were plentiful, and soaked in the muddy ditches and unplanted rice paddies during the heat of the day.

The Kep National Park was adjacent to the Lodge.  By hiking up a steep trail in back of our bungalow, we could access a service road that wound around the mountain.  It lead to various points that offered panoramic views of houses, rice paddies and ocean beyond.

A small hand painted sign pointed to the Nun's Trail and Look Out Point.  At the crest of the hill there was a Buddhist temple to the right and a wooden house to the left.  As we got closer a pack of dogs started barking and ran toward us.  A woman with a shaved head (presumably a nun) came running out of the house to shoo away the dogs.  Obviously many others had passed this way, and she guided us to the trail that went to the Look Out Point.

When we passed the house on our return trip, the nun who showed us the trail and a second nun came out to welcome us and offer a large bottled-water, which we sorely needed.   We could not understand them and they could not understand us, but we conversed in the universal language of respectfulness, smiling often, hand gestures and lots of nodding.  They insisted we sit down to rest and enjoy the water.  Their house looked very spartan, which fit their equally spartan lifestyle.  Before leaving, the nun who showed us the path also insisted we visit the temple, which they oversee.  The entire interaction with the two women was a cultural exchange we will never forget.

Our next destination was Vietnam.  We had expected to ride a bus, but were told that no buses traveled between Kep and the border.  If we wanted to take a bus, then we would have to return to Phnom Penh.  The next question was, "Then how do we get to the border from Kep?"  We were told the usual way was for a tuk-tuk driver to take travelers close to the border where they meet motorcycle drivers that carry them the rest of the way.  It seemed very strange and a bit unorthodox, but after all this is Cambodia.  On the bright side, at least we would not be forced to watch Khmer music videos.

On the agreed day, the tuk-tuk driver arrived to take us close to the border where six motorcycle drivers would (hopefully) be waiting to take us the remaining distance.  It was a bright sunny day, and the green rice paddies against the cobalt blue sky made the countryside look like a postcard.  In addition, during the entire drive kids came running from nearly every house waving and yelling hello.  It was a great send off.

The drive to the rendezvous point was nearly 20 miles.  It was much further than expected, and nearly half of the distance was on a rough dirt road.  And just as promised, there were six motorcycles and drivers waiting at the agreed location.  We were each instructed to sit behind a driver and hold as much of our gear as possible.  The sixth driver somehow managed to carry the remaining gear.

It was still another five miles on the rough dirt road to the border.  Trying to balance, hold the gear and not fall off was no easy task.  They took us to an impressive immigrations and customs facility where the passports were stamped.  The driver in charge told us they could only drive a short distance inside Vietnam because they had to return to Cambodia.  They dropped us off at a house with a small store and introduced us to the proprietor who just happened to have motorcycles with drivers for hire.

I told the storeowner we wanted to go to the next town.  He assured me there were no hotels in town, and recommended a hotel in a village along the coast.  I hired six motorcycles and drivers and off we went.  The next portion of our journey was the most harrowing and dangerous of our entire trek.  It made the motorcycle ride we had just experienced seem like a lovely drive in the country.

And remember, "Travel is the ultimate education."

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