Arrival in Sen Monoram

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One of the things I have begun to notice as I drive around Cambodia is the endless farm land. It seems most of the natural vegetation along the way has been cleared to make room for agricultural products; mostly rice.

Around 2:30pm our route on the new highway 8 intersects with an old highway #7. We stop for lunch at some little restaurant just past the intersection as we are all getting hungry and you never know when you are going to come across a 50k stretch with no food. The place doesn’t have menus so I try and ask what food they have. Now the problem is that while I am fully capable of asking what food they have, I am completely incapable of understanding their answer. I only know the words for a handful of foods and dishes they serve in Cambodia. This is a problem I have been running into a lot lately. I guess my Khmer initially sounds good enough that people think I am fluent and they just blurt out a jumble of words way to quick and complicated for me to understand.
“Okay,” I say looking at Dima and Ellia. “They seem to have a lot of things, but I only understand a few. They have cha’kradow, a curry like dish with a lot of holy basil, they also have curry, pork with rice, and chicken with rice,” I continue.

Dima is a vegetarian so I know he doesn’t want any of that. I ask the waiter if they have fish. He tells me that they do, but Dima doesn’t want it. He had a bad experience eating fish in the Russian countryside once and got some kind of worm that almost killed him so I order him a plate of stir fried vegetables and rice, while Ellia and I order the cha’kradow.

When the food comes out it looks good. After one bite I happen to notice that it is exceptionally spicy. I ask Ellia if he likes spicy food and he tells me that he doesn’t really like it.

“Well get ready,” I tell him “because this has a kick to it.”

It’s one of those meals that make you sweat while eating them. I don’t really mind as I really like spicy food, but knowing that Ellia doesn’t really like spicy food, I can tell you that he handled it like a champion. Not a word of complaint, he just downed a few extra glasses of iced tea.

I look at my watch and do some quick calculations to estimate and arrival time. It’s about 3:00 now after lunch and we have at least 150km to go maybe a bit more. The sun sets here around 6pm and we don’t want to be caught driving around the mountains later in the pitch black looking for some town we’ve never been to. It will be close, that I know for sure.

“Well guys, we have 150km to go and 3 hours to do it,” I remark. “What do you think?”

“Maybe we can,” replies Ellia.

“If it was just me, I would probably stop at Snoul and spend the night there. It’s probably just a boring middle of nowhere city, but we’ll arrive during the daytime and we won’t have to worry about not making it all the way Sen Monoram.” I say. “But,” I continue. “Ellia has to take a bus on Saturday back to Phnom Penh and it’s already Thursday. If we don’t make it all the way today, then Ellia won’t even have a full day at our destination before having to take the bus back. Lets push it, we can make it”

“Okay,” Dima says.

“We can always reevaluate at Snoul based on the time we arrive there,” I comment. As we pay our bill and hop back in the jeep.

Highway 7 is bumpy and filled with potholes for the first few kilometers so the going is slow. I begin to think to myself that if the whole highway is like this we’ll never make it before nightfall, but we are in luck and it gets better after about 15 minutes or so. Once again we are cruising down a nice highway making good time.

I have studied the map a few times along the way and I have noticed something very weird about national highway #7. You see the route we have been taking skims along the Vietnamese border and there appears to be a 5 or 10km stretch where it actually crosses the border into Vietnam and then back out again into Cambodia. I have no idea why a Cambodian national highway would do this, nor what crazy person planned the road, but it is what it is. Now crossing into Vietnam presents a whole new bundle of troubles we don’t want to deal with. As an American, I have to arrange a Vietnamese visa in advance and while Ellia and Dima, because they are Russian, would have no problem getting into Vietnam, but Ellia’s single entry Cambodian visa wouldn’t allow reentry without paying for a new visa. In addition to this is the fact that there is a good chance they won’t let me drive my jeep into Vietnam, being as it has Cambodian license plates and no legal documents. Luckily I have seen a tiny little road on the map that looks like it could go around the small highway stretch before it enters Vietnam and reconnect with it on the other side.

As we are getting closer and closer to the Vietnam border I mention to Ellia and Dima to keep an eye out for a left turn that could be the small road I’ve seen on the map. After a bit, we come to the Vietnam border crossing. We turn and head back looking for the road again. It turns out that the road is just a tiny little dirt track that leads into the forest and even though we are looking for it we pass it twice just assuming that it will be slightly larger. As we head down the track it deteriorates further into large holes and crevices. It passes through a small village and all of the locals stare at us like we are crazy. We just wave and keep on going. After a time we link back up with highway 7 and continue towards Snoul.

It is just after 4pm when we arrive at Snoul and decide to stop for gas. We are still thinking that we can make it. We have 2 hours left and 110km to go. As long as the roads are good it should be fine. If it gets to steep then the jeep goes pretty slow, but hopefully that won’t be a problem. As we are filling up on diesel I ask the gas station attendant how long it takes to get to Sen Monoram. He tells me about 2 or 2 and a half hours. Oh yeah, I think to myself it will definitely be close.

Now from what I have read and heard from other people, I am expecting the rest of the drive to pass through some lush jungle and beautiful mountains, but I am sorely disappointed. As we continue down the highway we just pass farm after farm after farm. All of the land has been cleared for agriculture. It still looks green and beautiful, but not at all what I had expected or hoped for. Ellia and I are discussing the landscape as Dima sleeps in the back, when I hit this huge pot hole which throws Dima off the back seat and rattles my teeth. Everybody looks a little stunned.

“Fuck. Sorry about that guys,” I say. “I didn’t see it until the last second.”

This is the first large pothole we have hit at high speeds, somehow I have managed to miss all the rest. After that hit, I am determined not to hit anymore. I don’t think my jeep can take it. Unsurprisingly, it is not long after I hit that huge pothole that my jeep starts to make a loud sound again.

“That’s the same sound again isn’t it?” I question to Ellia and Dima.

“Yes. The pump again,” Ellia says.

“The pump? No the muffler.” I reply.

He looks at me for a minute.

“The pipe. Maybe the pipe,” he ponders.

“Yeah. The pipe,” I answer. His English isn’t great and there are times when I have to figure out what he means. The muffler is the same thing we got fixed this morning in Phnom Penh. It only lasted about 300km before breaking again. “Well, day 2 problem 2. That sounds about right, we are right on par for the course,” I joke. At least it’s just a small problem again. I can only hope all the car troubles we have on this trip are as minor as that.

About 50km after Snoul we finally hit the dramatic landscapes we are looking for. The first thing we see is a wall of trees ahead. Immediately you can tell that this is a wild untamed land. It is just a wall of dense foliage that hasn’t been touched. Beyond the tress we can see big mountains starting to rise up in the background.

For the next hour we are following a winding road through the jungles up and down the mountains. At one point we see a troop of monkeys going running across the road. I notice that it is also beginning to get cooler out. We decide to open the windows and the air is cool and fresh. Gone is the oppressive heat and humidity of the lowland Cambodia. We are definitely in the mountains now. As the sun continues to set, it’s not long before we are all reaching for jackets to ward off the chilly air. This is the first time I have ever needed a jacket in Cambodia. Can tell it is going to get quite cold later after the sun has set. Around 5:15 it becomes a race against the setting sun. The sun goes down quick in Cambodia, one minute is bright and sunny out and the next, its black as can be. You basically have a 15 minute window from 5:45pm to 6:00pm to watch the sunset and then it is gone, so I know we only have about 40 more minutes to get there.

As it happens we are in luck once again. We pull into Sen Monoram just before 6pm. We have made it. We pushed 400km in one day and I know that doesn’t seem like a lot, but along a mix of good and bad roads in my old piece of shit, slow –ass Suzuki jeep, it is a miracle. It appears to be a small town with just one major strip where most of the guesthouses are located. After cruising up and down the strip we decide to stop at a friendly looking place called the Sovannakiri Guesthouse. The rooms are cheap, just $6, and it has hot water. That’s all I need to hear. It’s been a long day and we are happy to be done driving. We decide to get cleaned up and meet downstairs at the bar for a nice cold beer and to discuss our plans for tomorrow.

By the time Ellia and Dima come downstairs to meet me at the bar, I already have a beer in hand and have spoken to the guesthouse owner about what to do around town.

“Alright guys,” I say as Ellia and Dima come to join me at the table. “I’ve been talking to the owner here and I told him you guys have only what day in town. He recommended we go to Bousra Waterfall, stop by the coffee plantation for lunch, make a quick stop at the small waterfall near town, and then end our day the Sea Forest.”
“Sounds good,” replies Dima. “But what is the Sea Forest?” He asks.

“Well the guy tells me it’s a 180 degree panoramic view from high up on a mountaintop. He says you can see for miles and miles,” I answer.

So that’s it then. Our day is planned all there is left to do tonight is wander around the town and take a look, have a couple of drinks, and grab some dinner. After a couple of beers at the guesthouse we decide to go for a wander around town. There is not much to see but it feels good to walk around after being in the car all day long. As we are walking I start telling Ellia and Dima about the grilled beef they have in Phnom Penh where they take a whole cow and slow roast it on a rotating spit.

“It’s called Sach kgo ang,” I tell them. And somehow, as if buddah himself was rewarding me for a job well done today, about one minute later we go walking past a stand with half a cow roasting on it.

“There it is!” I exclaim. “You want to try it,” I ask Ellia. I know Dima won’t eat it.

“Yes. Looks good,” replies Ellia.

“Awesome. I am totally in the mood for it,” I respond.

We sit down at a little table and I walk up to the grill. I point to a couple of the pieces on the grill that we want and then sit down at the table with Ellia and Dima. We order two beers and have some idle chatter while we wait. As the grill lady brings out a platter of beef that looks tasty as can be, another younger girl starts bring a small bowl to the table, but the older lady tells her we don’t need it.

“They don’t eat pahok,” she says in Khmer.

“No,” I say contradicting her. “I eat it

“You eat pahok,” she asks looking incredulous.

“Yes,” I reply. “But just for me. They won’t eat it,” I continue.

The reason she looks so shocked is because pahok is a traditional Cambodian dish made from fermented fish. I have never met another foreigner who eats it yet. In fact anytime I mention to any of the other expats the fact that I eat pahok, they all look at me like I am nuts. After that they never believe me if I tell them a restaurant is good. They just look at me and say “yeah well you eat pahok so it could be dog shit and you would like it. I guess I can’t argue with them, pahok is a pretty funky dish.

The beef is just as good as I expected, better in fact because they have this really awesome garlic oil they pour over the top and it is scrumptious. My mouth is watering as I sit here writing about it. In fact, I am already planning on going back tomorrow for some more. We finish the night off at the guesthouse where Dima finally has his dinner while Ellia and I have another drink. Around 10pm we all head off to our rooms because the guesthouse and everything around us seems to closing while we are sitting at the table.

It is about 2:00am when I am awoken by a banging on my window. It sounds windy as shit outside, almost like a small scale hurricane minus the rain. As I peak outside to see who banged on my window, nobody is there and I realize that it was the wind blowing so heard it banged the window. I can see the trees bending so hard in the wind it appears they might break. I also notice that my room is extremely cold. I grab another blanket as I climb back into bed and bundle up. It’s not long before its 6:45am and I am climbing out of bed. For some ungodly reason I’ve recently gotten into the habit of waking up around 6:30 in the morning. Even at my house in Sihanoukville. In my house the light just streams through the curtains and at hostels or hotels, it is always so noisy outside. The whole country of Cambodia seems to be up and outside doing stuff by 6:30am. Maybe I am slowly becoming Khmer.

In the morning the wind is still blowing strong. I walk downstairs to enjoy a cup of coffee and then walk around the town for 20 minutes or so just checking out the city. Sen Monoram is crisscrossed back and forth with dirt roads everywhere. There is also an old airport that is just a dirt strip now that the locals use as a road. Clouds of brown dust blow like sandstorms through the city regularly. I can see that everything, myself included, gets coated with a film of red dust. After my walk I head back to the hostel and do a little writing until the other guys come down for breakfast. By 9:00am everybody is downstairs and eating breakfast. At 9:45 we climb into the jeep with a hand-drawn map from the guesthouse owner. Its time to start today’s adventure.

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Photos

Just a Glimse
Tomorrow is when the adventure starts. I just thought I'd show you guys a quick glimpse. So this photo doesn't go with this story, but I get the feeling people are getting ancy for some cool pics

Short Cut
We took this road to avoid entering Vietnam

Almost There
Almost at Sen Monoram. Its starting to get chilly

Sen Monoram
View from above

The Bull
Bull statue in the center of Sen Monoram

The Main Drag
The busy busy downtown strip of Sen Monoram

Comments

[Sebastian Crumple]

Fermented fish you say? Oh yummy!
I did get an enormous kick out of you being able to ask for food, and then have no idea what is being offered...I'm guessing the pastrami sandwiches come in a can? I'm sort of hoping that you took a picture of the half a roasted cow. Speaking of which, just what part of a water buffalo is the delicacy?