On the road again

We leave Phnom Penh at 2pm the following day in search of sun and sand in Sihanoukville – Cambodia’s backpacker haven on the sparkling South Coast. The minivan option seemed like a good idea upon booking – fewer tourists, more personal and comfortable. Right?

As we squeeze into our spots on the back row we get the full meaning of a “more personal” trip. Our knees are jammed up against the seats in front – posture straighter than it’s even been. And we’re squished shoulder to shoulder with our fellow passengers.

OK, so it’s only a four-hour drive, how bad could it be?

I’ve travelled to Asia previously. It’s always amazed me just how happily everyone seems to get along without adhering to any road rules. But I'm not really prepared for this.

The traffic is thick and, at times, quite fast heading out of the city. As soon as we hit the highway it’s on. Large trucks heading to and from the coast (Sihanoukville is also home to a major international port) start mingling with buses, minvans, four-wheel-drives and even tuks tuks. The little taxis look incredibly fragile amongst this major traffic! Our driver doesn't seem too concerned that everyone's travelling at whatever speed - and whatever side of the road - they choose.

OK, so generally people drive on the right-hand side of the road in Cambodia, but their approach to overtaking (and sometimes just driving down the middle of the road for extended periods of time) can be frightening at high speeds. We overtake everything in our minivan, and the gaps between our van and the trucks approaching seem to get smaller and smaller.

At one point we are out on the left, overtaking a ute laden with wood and scrap materials. It seems like we’re suspended in time – just chugging along, trying to pass this fully loaded obstacle. A large red truck is approaching from the other direction. It’s bearing down. Our driver toots and flicks his lights as a signal prompting the oncoming truck to slow down. In a flash, the situation gets hairy. A white hilux ducks up the outside of the oncoming truck and loses control, fishtailing in front of us.

I breathe in and look away...

It seems like a while, but it's actually only seconds before I realise that everything's going to be OK. We’ve pulled back onto the right side of the road, the oncoming ute has righted itself, speeding ahead of the red truck.

Nothing to worry about - nothing at all.

I breathe out. I know that my nerves are going to be tested for another three and a half hours yet.

I focus on the small shopfronts lining the highway. The adults talking, cooking, bartering, laughing. I admire the children in the background, playing with bicycle tyres, running them along with sticks. I contemplate what the skinny cows hanging out nearby are munching on. I worry about the litter – a large, snake-like chain of rubbish lining the roadside. I smile at the baby chickens scurrying after their mums. I take in the beautiful landscape - forested mountains bordered by blue sky.

And now I breathe gently – not thinking about the road and our van, and the upcoming obstacles. And I remember that while it’s different to my orderly life back home, it’s an amazing place to be.

Welcome to the Kingdom of Wonder!

Arriving in Cambodia’s capital, Phnom Penh, can be described as nothing else but an assault on the senses. Even as a tourist shielded by much of the hustle and bustle this city leaves an indelible impression. The taste of smog and dust are thickened by the sticky heat. Pungent wafts of sewage and rubbish are, for the most part, masked by the delicious scents of home-cooked Khmer foods – noodles, curries and soups that make your mouth water.

For a flat rate of $USD 7 we hop into an air-conditioned taxi at the airport. Outside our window the toots of motos and tuk tuks are interspersed with the louder horns of larger cars, including brand new Lexus four-wheel-drives. The chasm between wealthy and poor is evident everywhere.  The sights are too many to take in. Families of three, four, sometimes more cling to each other on a moped. Babies ride up front in mum or dad’s arms and if old enough they stand in the footwell, their tiny hands gripping the handlebars. That in itself is an unusual sight to me, but the fact that so few are wearing helmets is the next logical thought that flashes through my mind. I’ve heard of the terrible road toll in Cambodia and campaigns to promote helmet wearing – I’m hoping I’m seeing more helmets now than there would have been only a few years ago.

Motos, cars, food carts and all manner of obstacles line the cramped footpaths. Street vendors sell pineapple, durian, sun-dried fish… I haven’t studied enough of it to know what else lay in those little glass-cased carts. Traffic blends at seemingly chaotic intersections, cars, motos and tuk tuks are like salmon and guppies swimming upstream, weaving their way through the crowds. Yet no one is anxious or angry. In fact a toot of the horn here is about as congenial as you can get when compared with Westerners’ aggressive use. Each little toot seems like a rudimentary courtesy saying: “Hello, just letting you know I’m coming through, take care.” No one is in a massive rush, but they’re not dawdling either - they’re just making their way.

The world outside our window is strangely punctuated by our taxi driver’s choice of music – Elvis. The lyrics of “Don’t be Cruel” stick in my head for days later  I don't want no other love, baby, it's just you I'm thinkin' of… After 15 minutes or so our driver turns off the airport road and begins weaving through a number of narrow alleyways where motos hog the pavement and cars jockey for position down these ‘one way’ streets. As we delve deeper into this labyrinth I begin to wonder where he’s taking us but, only a few minutes later, we arrive at our cute boutique hotel near the riverfront. As I will learn along the way, Cambodians don’t let you down and they do everything whilst wearing a smile.

As we grab our backpacks and enter our hotel for a much needed chance to decompress I am struck by the disparity between our accommodation and the ageing buildings across the road from us, tucked behind a façade of tourist restaurants and massage parlours. Already I know that this visit, albeit a short one, will challenge my head and my heart.