Kampot and Bokor

Let me apologize in advance...this could be a long one...

After safely motorbiking Shanti and myself home on Friday, we headed over to the bus station, not knowing what time the bus left, to go to Kampot for the weekend. At bus station #1, we were told that buses don't leave for Kampot from said station, so we went to bus station #2, by the Central Market. We arrived at 1:15, precisely the time the bus for Kampot was due to leave. Luckily, we're in Cambodia and nothing happens on time, so we made it with about a half an hour to spare.

After an uneventful but scenic (and sometimes bumpy) 5 hour bus ride we arrived in the quaint and sprawling town of Kampot. We tracked down the guesthouse we planned to stay in, a cute little place called the Little Garden Bar, right on the Prek Thom River. We grabbed a quick, cheap, and delicious bite to eat (spring rolls and spicy beef) and figured out how we would make the 40km trip to Bokor National Park the next day. We called a few places but details were sketchy. One guy came to our guesthouse and tried to convince us that the road up to Bokor was washed out and the only way to get there was via motorbike (instead of 4x4) for $15 (instead of $6). Cough...cough...scam. We booked with his competitor and called it a night.

I took a little walk while Shanti slept Saturday morning, down the riverfront and to the town market. I don't know why, but for some reason I'm convinced that Kampot is the Wild West. I'm not exactly sure how to describe it, but to say that that's just how it felt. Dusty dirt roads, wooden shacks and stores, and just the general sense that Kampot was stuck in the days of the mid-1800s. Anyways, I had an enjoyable walk - especially since I seemed to be the only Westerner around. I tried to get a conversation going with some moto drivers in Khmer, but they laughed and promptly informed me that they spoke English. Very amusing.

Strolled back to the guesthouse where we got picked up by a moto to meet the other tourists trekking up to Bokor. Twelve of us (plus two guides) were piling in to a pickup. My mom would have killed me for a) going or b) considering taking her on such a trip. Shanti and I piled on to the back, where benches lined the side, and held on for dear life. The road to the outskirts of the National Park were fine, but once we entered the Park, they were atrocious. I was AMAZED that our truck didn't break down, that it only got stuck in mud once, and that trucks regularly make it up this road. It was built by the French in the early 1920s - I have no idea what they were thinking - and not at all maintained. It was a back-bruising and butt-busting two hour drive from sea level to 3500 feet through virgin, prehistoric-looking jungle, with some palm fronds growing to at least forty feet. We had to stop several times and walk to ensure the truck could make it by on the road and on one such occasion, I saw a baboon run across the road, the only real wildlife we saw save an iguana, some butterflies, and some interesting insects.

At the top, the French had built a palace, dubbed the Black Palace, now in ruins, overlooking surrounding jungle, rice fields, and the coast, with Vietnam visible in the distance. Quite a view and we were lucky to glimpse it at all, as during the rainy season the mountains are usually shrouded in clouds. As we arrived at our next stop, the old casino, it started pouring. We hustled under tarps set up for our lunch stop and gobbled down an interesting-tasting vegetable curry (my favorite...) before exploring. By the time we finished eating, the fog had rolled in creating perhaps one of the spookiest spectacles I've ever seen. We wandered around the five or so floors covered in moss, rainwater, and debris. It was a fairly haunting experience that reminded me a bit of my trip to Darulaman Palace in Kabul.

Our last stop on the top was the church, equally ruined and moss-covered, and even more creepy than the Palace and the casino. I felt like I was surrounded by ghosts. After the church we began our fun, but somewhat painful trip down. We stopped an hour in to hour drive to do a short jungle trek, but first had to try and unsuccessfully get our truck unstuck. The girls sat in the bed of the truck to increase the traction on the tires, while the men got mud-splattered were unsuccessful in pushing it out. The driver waited for another truck to come by and pull him out while we went on our rather uneventful (and spikey-plant filled) jungle trek.

Two hours later and we were back riverside, to catch a boat back to Kampot and the sunset over Bokor. It was the perfect conclusion to the exhausting and beautiful day, and it was topped off with a local beer.

Having not enjoyed my curry all that much, I was starving. Once back in Kampot town, we restaurant hopped until settling on a tasty place called Coco house, where we indulged in a steak in butter and garlic sauce with french fries and salad and garlic bread. Full, sore, and exhausted, we went to sleep.

Sunday morning we pampered ourselves with crepes, a baguette, and a massage. Shanti's was good, but mine was just mediocre. Still worth the $4 it cost for an hour.

I don't know that we'll be back in Kampot any time soon, but we will probably take a trip to Kep (about 25km from Kampot), a beautiful and quiet beach town.

Just one final and unrelated note: I'm getting much better at motorbike driving. Haven't been pulled over any more and haven't gotten in any accidents either. :) I'll keep you all posted.