Sihanoukville (1)

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The bus ride to Sianoukville, Cambodia's primary seaside resort town, took 5 hours and cost $13. About half Cambodians (on holiday I presume) and the rest European, all speaking German unfortunately. Some Austrians in the back were sporting cool fedoras but unfortunately this bus had pre-assigned seating so I couldn't get back there for a hat chat. Seated in front of me were four aged German sex tourists, drinking beer and farting uproariously. An ill omen for what was to come.

The highway was very winding, passing through the most mountainous (and ecologically untouched) part of the country. The road was also almost brand new. It resembled how my father described the BC section of the Trans-Canada in it's early days - one lane each way with a paved shoulder about 1 foot wide. The bus driver, unlike most I've encountered over here, was very cautious taking it very slow and honking to wake the dead at every bend. The rules of the road in Cambodia (and sometimes in Thailand) dictate that whoever is biggest has the right-of-way, but he took no chances. Eventually the land opened up and we passed a huge fenced off area (at least 100 acres) which appeared to be a shoe/garment factory complex. There were armed guards at the gate -- to keep Naomi Klein out or keep the workers inside? Sihanoukville is Cambodia's only deep-water port, so it stands to reason there will be export manufactories nearby.

As the bus pulled in the station, it was swarmed by fellows offerring taxi service. This was getting very old very fast; I ignored them and stood close to the bus until my big bag had been unloaded. (I keep a small bag next to me with passport, computer, etc..) I had picked a guesthouse from the lonely planet and asked one of the drivers for a lift. $6. No, I countered $2, starting to get the hang of this place. $6 he insisted, so I started walking. "wait, wait..." he agreed on $3 and we jumped in his car. He tolk me that all his friends were laughing as we drove off because he would drive for only $3. Five minutes later, after taking the long way around, he dropped me off. Asshole. Welcome to Sihanoukville.

The Angkor Inn was in the centre of town, equidistant from the city's 5 beaches. At first, I thought the place was closed. It turns out the old chinese-khmer woman who owns it ("Mom") keeps the lights down to save electricity. hmmmm. The room had a hot shower which was full of mosquitos and two single beds slid together to form a "king". It was pretty ghetto but only $10 with a/c. No wi-fi which I had been hoping for, but the place was such a dump I didn't plan on staying long enough to care.

Had a quick shower to freshen up and then went for a walk around the block. There are no sidewalks, so I was dodging traffic, or more accurately they were dodging me. I still haven't exactly worked out the mechanism by which traffic works in Asia but strangely enough it does actually work! If you want to cross the street, just start walking and everyone kind of veers around you. It's quite disconcerting but the worst think to do is stop walking, that's when you'd get hit. If I return to Canada as other than a pancake in a pine box, I will have figured it out.

Third-world city scene, air quality bad, scooters galore, honk, honk, honk. The odd street vendor selling food likely coated in smog. Dentist's office with a big tooth on the sign; a veteranarian's with pictures of chicken, pig, cow, dog. Catering to the illiterate market. Not that I can read Khmer - but most of the shop signs had english script, unlike Thailand where I am completely stumped. Around the corner a couple of expat pubs, one German one (I couldn't read the menu except "weiner-schnitzel") It might have been delicious but I felt unable to hold up my end of the conversation. Next door one with some british flags and a portrait of the Queen. It was dark inside, and as I peered in to see if it was closed as rotund Englishman came out bouncing a mixed-race baby. "Hi, is this your place? Are you open?" Affirmative, I sat at a table outside ordered a beer and a chicken pie. I think he's another one keeping the lights off the save electricity (wtf??) He (or his Cambodian wife) kept checking on me every minute or so. Presumably to prevent me skipping out on the bill. Lovely town, this. At one point the power for the entire block went out and his wife rushed out to keep guard on me while he fired up the generator in the back. The power supply here is apparently very unreliable, and the customers even worse. I paid my tab and never went back.

Across the street from my lodging was a 3 story place "The Freedom Hotel". They had a bar on the main floor, it looked lively, so I went over to check it out. Pool tables, excellent service. The clientele consisted entirely of white men (I was the youngest) and scantily clad Cambodian women. I sat at the bar and the fellow adjacent, in an english accent, offerred a joint asking "do you smoke the devil's weed?" Well, I'm pretty sure it was God created all the plants but rather than provoke a theological debate I had a social puff and engaged in conversation. He hailed from Manchester, a rather poor and decrepid part by the sounds of it, but had been happily living abroad for some years. He explained that this bar was one where foreign men could "meet" local girls, and the popular way to do this was to sign up for a game of pool. I did not feel like playing, just watching the action. A friend of his showed up, a very sketchy American fellow with blue-tinted glasses who claimed to have lived in Vancouver. He also claimed to have seen Apocalypse Now in pre-release in 1974 (aside: a great movie, involving cambodia, not produced until 1978) so I sized him up as a piss-poor bullshit artist. He tried to sell me some marijuana which I declined. Also cocaine, yaa-baa, opium, ecstacy, ...for me he evoked a dishonest version of "Easy Andy" from Taxi Driver ("you want grass? speed? uppers? downers? how bout a cadillac? want a brand new cadillac with pink slip?") After I told him for the 4th time I was not in the market for Anything he finally left to find some other sucker.

The four flatulent Germans from the bus showed up around a table on the patio. Now, I was sitting facing away from the bar, watching the pool game, and by coincidence facing them directly. They kept staring over at me nervously. The shit-disturber in me wishes I had my camera to take a couple of shots of the pool play, but the angel on my other shoulder reminded me to watch my p's and q's in a country with so many handguns and such pathetic law enforcement. Every so often a Cambodian girl would come over and pat one of the Germans on the shoulder and the two would disappear for a half-hour or so. My toking English neighbor said that the German owner of the hotel had run into some unspecified Big Trouble, such that he was forced to sell and leave the country _permanently_, and there had been many of his countrymen passing through, possibly sizing it up as an investment. Gives a whole new meaning to "test-drive". Also, considering the extensive bribe culture in the police here, I shudder to imagine what the "big trouble" must have been.

There was a young Cambodian boy (7 or 8 maybe) hanging around, wandering table to table. That freaked me out the most, considering the nature of the business of the establishment. The englishman called him over and sent him down the shop to buy him a pack of cigarettes. He said the kid was an "urchin" looking to make a little money for odd jobs. I sure hope that's all he was there for, surely ain't no place for a kid to hang around.

Fed up with the whole scene, I headed back across the street to the hotel. Slept fitfully, trying not to think where the bed had been.

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