Kalashnikovs, Cowboys and Criminals...

---

There were two things left on our tour itinerary, and after the depressing Killing Field tours we were glad to do something different to lighten our mood. First off we headed to the Russian Markets. These weren't unlike other markets that we have visited on this trip but this time with Cambodian women encouraging you to look in their little area. It was a huge maze of tiny shops that all looked the same - so much so that it was easy to lose your bearings. We eventually emerged back into daylight and located our tuk-tuk driver for our last activity of the day.

The last thing we did was something that we simply had to try here, because we could never imagine being allowed to do it in Europe! The tuk-tuk driver took a sharp right at the Cambodian Military Barracks and took us deep down a side road. Moments later we pulled up in a small courtyard, and were invited to sit down as the staff member went off to fetch a menu.

“But we don't want to eat.” I naively told Philippe. “Ehh, I think it's a guns menu”, and sure enough seconds later the guy returned with two laminated menus displaying photo's and dollar prices for everything from shooting a small hand gun (20$) to firing a rocket launcher into a nearby hill (a steal at 350$!). In the end Philippe opted for the western favourite of lashing off 25 rounds from an AK47. He was handed a military jacket, we both got ear protection and our 'waiter' went off to locate a magazine of bullets.

When he returned we were led through a glass door and situated about 30metres from a paper target. After a quick lesson on aiming, Philippe liberated a few rounds and was grinning from ear to ear as the shells bounced off the floor below and the gun ricocheted off his shoulder. After inquiring how to activate the automatic function of the gun he was positively looking Rambo-like! Sadly 25 rounds don't last very long at all when they are being pumped out at such speed, and our forty dollars was soon embedded in the wall at the other end of the building. Most were misses, but I'm pretty sure the paper man would still have been killed by the 4 or 5 bullets that were on target.

With the target paper safely stowed in our bag, we returned to our hostel in Phnom Penh to pack up our rucksacks for the early morning trip to Sihanoukville. The bus was scheduled to leave at 8am the next morning, but given the number of backpackers that were congregated at the bus stop, so were several others! We ousted some German tourists out of our seats and settled in for the 4 hour bus ride.

In the four hours that ensued I gained more exposure to the mad traffic of Cambodia. I delighted in trying to snap pictures of the weird and wonderful means of distributing people and products in this country, and was convinced that I might snap a photo of someone going by with a shower door on the back of their moped that I could send my old colleagues for a laugh. I didn't, but I did see a queen sized mattress, a windscreen, a family of six, a melting block of ice and so many other wacky things on mopeds, that by the time we reached Sihanoukville, I could have seen Nelly the Elephant on the back of one, and not been all that surprised!

In Sihanoukville we were again descended upon by touts looking to take us to their hotel. We had read our guide book and decided to stay away from the party area of town, instead opting for the supposed tranquililty of Weather Station Hill. We picked one of the guys, halved his starting price and twenty minutes in a tuk-tuk later, we were happily set up in our own bungalow on stilts in Mari-yan's. Twenty minutes after we settled in, the heavens opened and we ran for cover.

It was strange to dust off my shocking pink raincoat because I haven't even thought of wearing it since New Zealand two months ago. It is unheard of in Ireland to go two months without rain! Having admired the tropical scenery from our balcony, we now found out first hand what makes it so green.

It was lunch time though, so we donned the rain gear and shloshed our way up our little laneway to the main street. We politely swatted away offers of tuk-tuks and marijuana, and exchanged wide eyed wonder at the drivers who were offering to drive us while wildly waving a large bottle of Angkor at us. Are these people serious?? We finally located a little french cafe to get some lunch, and amused ourselves by listening to the regular clientele mutter about how great everything was in France. Some things never change!

Someone turned off the rain tap that afternoon for long enough for us to pop out for a nice Indian dinner, and it is then that we began to form the opinion that this part of Sihanoukville felt like a Criminal hideaway. Every second 'tourist' looked like an extra from 'Snatch', and the principal trades in the area were prostitution and drug dealing. All in all, a nice place...to stay in the bungalow as much as we could!

The torrential rain provided the ideal excuse for hiding away from the world for a day, and we only ventured into town for food and internet. We had no option on the second night, as the electricity in the whole town was out for the best part of the afternoon!

The whole experience was capped off nicely when, having hailed a non-alcohol wielding tuk-tuk driver to take us to the bus station, he pulled in at the side of the main street to conduct a drug deal, right in front of us, and then turned and grinned widely at us, as if willing us to congratulate him on making the sale!

In hindsight it was no harm to get out of Phnom Penh for a few nights, and it was nice to travel through a different bit of Cambodia, but as for the Weather Station Hill part of Sihanoukville, my advice is to steer clear!

Once again we settled in for the four hour bus trip between Sihanoukville and Phnom Penh. This time however we managed to get a bus that felt like it had square wheels. For four hours we thudded along the sandy road from the heart-attack inducing position of the front two seats behind the cowboy driver. Never have I called the Lord's name in vain so often as during that trip watching the driver muscling his way through the traffic, trundling at top speed, beeping with the same zeal as a five year old playing the drums. That we made it back to Phnom Penh alive, and without mowing down any men, women, children or animals, is truly a miracle, so He must have heard my calls!

We spent the night in Phnom Penh before eagerly setting off to cross the border into Vietnam the next morning. I was going to see my parents for the first time in seven months, and it wasn't until it was so near to happening, that I realised just how excited I was to see them!

---

Photos

The beach in Sihanoukville
Not quite swimming weather