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.
