And in between, this.
And more this. And more this. And seven hours on the bus to look at it, with nothing to distract from some rather downbeat ruminations. Caveats first. We’ve only seen one, very unrepresentative bit of the country. It’s a bit that’s so tourist-oriented that a degree of chiseling and cynicism is only to be expected. But we’ve encountered more in a week than we did over a month in Vietnam, or the better part of two in Malaysia and Thailand.
Doubtless a good part of it is us: sheer fatigue, after three straight days of touring the sites of Angkor Wat in the heat and the dust, probably compounding just general travel fatigue. We’ve been away a long time now; there comes a point where you inevitably run out of steam a little.
Having said all of which, I suspect the main thing turning my thoughts a tad gloomy was the view. Sitting on our second endless bus journey through Cambodia, looking out at this unvarying nothingness, and you can’t help but wonder, how did they do it? How in God’s name did the Khmers manage to extract any surplus at all from this flat, drab, arid landscape, let alone enough to enable the construction of the miracle that is Angkor Wat? Is there productive land somewhere? I suppose there must be. Surely this land can barely sustain human life, let alone the construction of Kubla and so many other Khans. What can grow here? We’ve seen almost nothing that even looks like crops. Just the odd cluster of skinny, disconsolate looking cows, mooching around in the dust and the relentless heat.
Buildings are few, and rudimentary. Vehicles mostly old and battered. Even people seem to be thin on the ground. The little towns you pass through sprawl charmlessly on the landscape; meagre, shabby, strewn with litter, with little stalls selling basic snacks and drinks, or cheap clothing, or fuel in old one litre water bottles. For mile after mile, even trees are few and far between. And spindly to boot. The only thing by the roadside that speaks of anything but an attritional struggle for survival is the occasional place selling gold or brightly coloured little shrines-on-posts for people to put in their front yards. Other than them, everything is the colour of dust. Most of it is dust.
You try not to rush to judgment, but two lengthy bus rides – upwards of twelve hours looking out at this endless drab, well, you have to say it’s a landscape hard to warm to. Not a place to lift the spirits and cheer the soul.
Ah well, we’re in Phnom Penh now, with a fourth floor room looking out over the city.
I’m sure things will look up after we’ve been out to the night market and got ourselves some yummy snacks, and started easing ourselves back into the city vibe. Here goes…
Well, feeling much better for that. Set off for the market, in search of street food, but within seconds we’d bumped into a little local place on the corner, metres from our front door, where we had a terrific meal. Mine was some kind of noodles I’ve never had before, which looked disconcertingly like worms, with beef and vegetables; Virle went with some kind of vege burger type thing, not knowing what it actually was, before, during or after. Both were the kind of food we love – simple, different, and tasty. Which we’ve been rather missing lately.
Then off down the river, to the market, both really enjoying the feel of the city. The market was a bit blah, if truth be told – just the usual array of stalls selling big chunky watches and ‘Adidas’ and I-heart-Cambodia T-shirts – but it was an amiable enough way to wind down at the end of a somewhat fraught day, and we got a three-scoop ice cream. Three scoops! What are we like. And then for a bonus, bumped into one of our Phnom Penh objectives on the way home: what looked like a very good barber. I am beginning to look a tad awry, if still distinguished in a backpacker-patrician sort of way. Looking forward to the morrer.
