Getting Started on Day2

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I wake up really early in the morning. I look at my clock and it is just 6:40am. Perfect time to get started. If I can be at the mechanic by 7:30, maybe I can get the jeep fixed quickly and we can hit the road earlier. It turns out to be a good thing I woke up early because just as I get out of the shower, there is a knock on my door.

It’s about 6:50am when I open the door and I am greeted by a kid of about 15 years old. I must move my car from one side of the street to the other I am told. I find it mildly strange because they had me move my car from the other side of the street to this side of the street last night. I have been in the hotel one night and this will be the third time I have to move my car. I guess it’s a hostel for backpackers who usually don’t have cars and they don’t really have any place to park them. They have just had me park in front of one business that is closed in the evening last night and now they want me to move it back to my original spot, because that business is closed during the day. It’s like some weird parking puzzle.

No big matter for me though because, as it turns out, I am planning on leaving in about 5 minutes anyways and heading to the mechanic. I knock on Dima and Ellia’s door before I leave to get them up and moving.

I arrive at the mechanic around 7:30am. Now even though I can speak some Khmer, it’s definitely not enough to describe car problems. So instead I pop open the hood and just show him the problem. I use words like “stinky, smoke, and hot” while pointing to the crack in the muffler.

He nods and smiles.

“I need to drive to Sen Monoram today,” I tell him. “How long to fix the jeep?” I ask.

“One hour,” he tells me in Khmer.

I thank him assuming he is finished talking and tell him I will be back in 1 hour, but he continues talking.

“Drive this car to mondulkiri?” He asks me.

“Yes,” I reply. “Why not?”

“Hmmmm,” he says. “No good,” he continues. “Car old has no power.”

“No problem ,” is my reply. “You’re old but have power,” I say jokingly. He laughs and nods. “One hour,” I say again as I walk away.

Nothing to do but wait now so I flag down a moto and have him take me to the café up the street. One last good cappuccino before heading off into the middle of nowhere I figure.

After a tasty omelette and even tastier cappuccino I head back to mechanic’s shop and somehow despite all odds he actually has my car fixed and waiting for me when I get back at 8:30. I call Dima to see how he is doing at the embassy picking up his passport; miraculously he is also finished already. Unfortunately Ellia is still at the Central Market and he does not have a phone for us to contact him on. Dima and I decide to meet at the market and look for him. After 15 minutes of fruitless searching we give up and decide on heading back to the hostel to wait for him.

Ellia arrives at 10:00 as we planned and after a quick breakfast we are on the road again. I know it is a bit late to be leaving if we plan on getting to Sen Monoram before nightfall, but we don’t have much choice. We have planned on driving 400km today. Worst case scenario, there are a few towns along the way we can stop at if it seems like we won’t make it.

Riding out of Phnom Penh is uneventful as expected, just traffic and dust; lots of both. I swear I remember the road here being in better condition a few years ago. They seem to have started ripping it up again. I guess they have plans to widen the road. They certainly need it.

After about 40 minutes we turn off onto the new highway #8 and it is beautiful. I don’t mean the scenery either, I am talking about the road; flat and smooth, no potholes, and hardly any traffic. We try and push hard in the beginning. I know we are already running late and if we don’t make up time somewhere we will never make it. After about an hour and a half of driving we pass a village with a lot of vendors selling fruit and water, as well as some restaurants.

“What do you think we stop?” Ellia asks.

“You want some fruit. Don’t you?” I say.

“Yes. I think the pineapple must be good.” He states. “Look they all selling.”

We pull off for a quick stop. We buy two pineapples from one of the vendors and then after asking the lady to cut them for us, Ellia and I wander off to look for some iced coffees with Ellia while Dima waits for the pineapple.

We buy some iced coffees from one of the vendors and a case of small water bottles from another. When we get back to the pineapple stand Dima is ready and waiting.

“Did you pay yet?” I ask.

“I don’t know how much,” he answers.

I guess that makes sense, he doesn’t speak Khmer and the lady selling them certainly doesn’t speak English.

“Som toe,” I say to the lady apologizing for the misunderstanding. “T’lai pawn mon?” I ask question the price of the pineapples.

She tells me it is $0.75 for both of them. As I take out my money to pay her, she suddenly points at my nose.

“Tro cha ss’att.” She says and giggles.

She has just told me my nose is beautiful. That is one thing I love about this country. You see I come from a Jewish family and as many people know, Jews tend to have big noses. While mine doesn’t have that usual Jewish length or hawkish appearance, I am still a Jew and Cambodia is the only country where I have ever been complemented on my nose; on more than one occasion too.

I thank her politely and then it is time to be off. We all climb back in the jeep and hit the road. It seems as if the road is nice and new and from what I have gathered from looking at maps, the jungles and mountains don’t start for another 200km right around a town called Snoul. It should be just an easy run until there.

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