When we awoke in the
morning, around dawn, Kate and I heard a strong wind rise in the
trees around the bungalow. It was soon followed by a louder noise –
heavy rain falling on the bungalow's thatched roof. Our hearts
dropped – it looked as though we were in for a wet ride downriver -
but by 6am, the rain had begun to tail off and by the time we had
packed and made our way to the visitor centre, it had stopped
altogether. We paid up, shouldered our packs and walked down through
the village to the river, where a boat, and a young French girl also
making the ride out, were waiting. We climbed aboard, pleased to see
that this boat was in better condition than the one in which we had
arrived, with a proper plastic cover over a more extensive roof. Some
rain fell on the journey back, but not much and we stayed relatively
dry. We actually saw some wildlife this time – spotting some
hornbills in the trees and catching glimpses of some moneys running
along branches near the water line.
When we reached the
bridge, we disembarked and walked up to the main road, where our boat
driver indicated we should wait in a small roadside restaurant for
our bus. The French girl was heading back to Phnom Penh and her bus
arrived first, ours following not too far behind. Our destination was
the port town of Sihanoukville and we arrived at around midday.
Climbing out into the heat of the day, we were, as usual, instantly
surrounded by a crowd of insistent tuk-tuk drivers, all wanting to
know where we wanted to go. I mentioned the name of our hostel
(Backpacker Heaven – I know, what a terrible name!) and they
parroted it back to me, except that they weren't quite saying it
right (Backpacker Haven). And when Kate asked them to point to it on
a map, they got the location wrong. And naturally they were all
quoting a ridiculously inflated price.
There was one who
was a bit more insistent than the others and we began haggling with
him, getting the price down from $6 to $2. Kate also kept at him to
guarantee that he knew where the hostel was. Eventually, he turned to
Kate and said: 'Stop talking! I know Backpacker Heaven. I live here.'
He then climbed on the bike that pulled the tuk-tuk and drove us,
yes, to Backpacker Heaven. Which turned out to be significantly nicer
than we had expected, given the awful name. Indeed, the name could be
said to be quite fitting – as it was so nice that your average
Southeast Asia backpacker would think it looked quite heavenly.
While we checked in,
Kate asked the woman at reception about getting to the port. She
assumed we meant the pier, which is where the boats leave to take
backpackers to the nearby islands, but we had gone through all of
this with the people from the resort and we were sure it was the
port. 'Really?' asked the woman, 'I can't go in there.' We explained
that we were going to Song Saa. 'For a day trip? No? For how many
days? It's very expensive!'
The room wasn't
ready yet, so we went downstairs to the bar area, where I got a cold
mug of draught beer and the girls jumped in the pool and then played
on the hostel's Playstation (yes, this place is a bit like Heaven).
We then went for a little walk around town, which wasn't our idea of
Heaven. It was hot and dry, which at least partially explained the
incredible profusion of laundries in the town. It was also rather
seedy, which at least partially explained the incredible profusion of
middle-aged white men, many with young Cambodian women on their arms.
We found a nice big park where there was a big group of
late-middle-aged locals doing aerobics with vastly varying degrees of
enthusiasm.
Back in the town, we
stopped at a little restaurant called Mr Heng and ordered some
draught beers and a plate of chips, and then broke out the cards. The
beers came out in mugs that had just been taken out of a freezer, so
the beers were super cold and extra refreshing. The staff were also
super friendly. Chips and beers polished off, we went across the toad
to another little restaurant that offered barbecued skewers, but the
meal, when it arrived, was disappointing – they hadn't put any oil
on the meat before they cooked it, so it was dry and a bit chewy.
When we were done, we went back across the road for some more chips
and beer at Mr Heng.
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