Together with two French, a Japanese, a Canadian, an Englishman and an Australian, I left Bangkok for the Thai/Cambodian border (at the towns of Aranyaprathet and Poipet). The journey to the border took four hours. At the border we were confronted with corrupt and bureaucratic immigration officials. Since the fall of Phnom Penh in 1975 this border was closed until it reopened a year and a half ago. During this period this area was – and still is – heavily mined and controlled by the Khmer Rouge. Because of this the road was in extreme bad condition. The procedures at the border took about one hour. Then we were loaded in the back of a Nissan pickup truck (those willing to pay US$3 more could take a seat inside the cabin, but we all wanted to rough it). With the seven of us we sat very uncomfortably in the back on our backpacks and started our journey to Sisophon (70-km from the border), the first town on the way to our final destination Siem Reap.

The first few kilometers of our journey weren’t that bad, but soon the road changed into the dirtiest dirt road I ever have seen. The potholes were so big that they reminded me of a battlefield one can see in a war movie. Most of the time we simply drove through paddy fields because the bridges were so heavily damaged. Some bridges could be used but only after paying some money to the locals who guarded (blocked) them. They simply removed a few vital beams and only put them back in place after getting a payment. Most of the time we didn’t drive faster than 20 to 30 km. p/hr. With scarves around our heads and covered with a thick layer of red colored dust we looked like a bunch of bandits. In Sisophon we, for some mysterious reason, had to change to another pickup truck. From there we started the last 82-km of our journey. The landscape we drove through was mostly flat and consisted of paddy fields, small creeks and villages. We made several stops along the way to stretch our legs and empty our bladders. At those stops we all wondered if it would be safe to leave the road and walk around. Nobody wanted to risk walking in a minefield. Sad enough, soon after we entered Cambodia I already saw the horrible results of the war and the continuous threat of landmines. In the first few hours I noticed three people with only one leg. Cambodia is one of the most heavily mined countries in the world. It is estimated that there are between 4 to 6 million of these devises littering the countryside. Mostly peasants and children are the victims as nobody exactly knows what is a minefield and what not (about 100 people every month are wounded or killed in Cambodia due to landmines). It is one of the major tasks (for many years to come) for the UN and other non-government organizations (NGO’s) to clear Cambodia of these horrible devices ever invented. Demining experts have defined 2.600 heavily mined areas covering an estimated 3.600 square km. Sadly, just 50 square kilometers have been cleared (1998 data). Soon it became dark, which made the ride even more spectacular. It was like taking part in a Camel Trophy. The headlights of the pickup trucks behind us illuminated the clouds of dust behind our car. At the same time we could see beautiful lightning on the horizon. Fortunately the last kilometers to Siem Reap were more comfortable. It was a trip I will never forget. Looking back, it took us about eight hours to cover 152 kilometers. Many people in Thailand warned me about the conditions of the road and described it as ‘the road to hell’. However, the trip was not that bad. It was very uncomfortable but I still think that the journey from Golmud (China) to Lhasa (Tibet) – see journal 2 – was a lot worse.

Siem Reap is a small town only seven kilometers from the world famous temples of Angkor. During the period I was in this town, Siem Reap was full with Cambodian tourists (mainly from Phnom Penh) who celebrated the New Year. Buddhist New Year – this year – was celebrated from the 13th until the 15th of April (with the new year being 2543). The famous temples of Angkor, built between seven and eleven centuries ago, when the Khmer civilization was at its peak. Angkor was rediscovered in 1860 by the French explorer Henri Mouchot. For four centuries Angkor controlled the greater part of Southeast Asia. Covering an area of some 25 kilometers by 10 kilometers and with more than 1.000 archeological sites, ancient Angkor was made up of hundreds of buildings, including hospitals and schools as well as homes and temples. Due to their links to gods, the use of stone was only allowed for temples. None of the wooden buildings survived and many temples were damaged. However, Angkor is a very interesting and spectacular site to visit. Like most foreign travelers, I hired a moto (and driver) for US$5 per day. Foreigners have to pay a high entrance fee to access the Angkor area. A three-day pass cost US$40, and three days you will need to see the major sites. During those three days I visited the most important and spectacular sites (24 in total). The highlights were:

1. Ta Prohm; a monastery built in 1186 which, at its peak, populated 72.200 people. Here nature has grown into the art of mankind, with giant Banyan and Kapok trees spreading their roots over the ancient stone structure, a fantastic sight.

2. Ta Som; a monastery built in the late 12th century with beautiful carvings in stone. This site was, not too long ago, used as a field hospital by the Khmer Rouge.

3. Banyon; a temple in the center of the walled city Angkor Thom. The morning I visited this site it was raining very heavily, however I was so impressed by the architecture and the carvings that I returned the next day. The 200 smiling faces, which are huge, carved in stone made this site very spectacular.

4. Angkor Wat; the most famous, a huge temple built in the 12th century on a plot measuring 1,5 kilometers by 1,3 kilometers and is surrounded by a large moat. It took thousands of slave laborers and 30 years to finish the job. The building consists of an outer wall and five huge towers (each 65 meters high). The most spectacular part of this temple, according to me, is the 800 meters long bas-relief on the outside of the central temple building (covering four walls).

I definitely enjoyed Angkor more than Bagan (Myanmar, see journal 9). Angkor’s sites were more diverse and also the jungle area around the different monuments made it more pleasant. However, don’t expect to find a spot for yourself (unless you go at 5 o’clock in the morning). Not like Bagan, it is almost impossible to be alone, tourists everywhere.

Already during the first few days I noticed that Cambodia was not catered to the low budget traveler. Good accommodation can be found for around US$3 - $5 per night, but food and transportation costs were high (as well as admission fees). Most prices in Cambodia were stated in US dollars, except if you go to local markets or pay motorcycle taxis the local currency, the Riel (1US$ was 3.800 Riel), will do. In Siem Reap we were frustrated with the fact that we foreigners sometimes had to pay 4 to 35 times the amount locals pay. I once was in a situation that I ate a bowl of rice noodles and noticed that all locals paid 500 Riel. The moment I reached for my 500 Riel bank note, I was told to pay 2.000 Riel. I refused to pay that, and the woman of the stall threw my 500 Riel note on the ground, demanding 2.000 Riel. I left paying 1.500 and gave the woman an ugly look.

On the 15th of April, James (an Englishman) and I decided to leave for the capitol city of Phnom Penh. We didn’t want to take the overpriced boat (the 5-hour journey cost US$25) but in stead planned to go by pick-up (8 hours for US$10). Two weeks before I arrived in Siem Reap, bandits attacked one of these boats, all passengers lost their valuables but nobody was hurt. One week after we left Riem Reap one of these boats sank, everybody lost their belongings and one Taiwanese died. However, the guest house we stayed (Peaceful Guest House, don’t even consider staying there, we had a lot of hassle) screwed up – among other things – and therefore were forced to stay another night. We changed to another guest house; Naga Guest House. This guest house had a very interesting list of rules, which was posted in the rooms. The best two were:

- Please leave explosive with the guest house’s owner.

- Any damage to materials in the rooms results in compensation.

Finally on the 17th we left Siem Reap. Our Nissan pickup truck left at 6:30 hours. James and I sat in the front – with six others (yes, it is possible to squeeze eight people in a small cabin), and the back was filled with bags of rice, wooden chairs, a big plastic container of honey and about ten people. The first 180 kilometers of road were not comfortable. It wasn’t that bad compared to the road we took from the Thai border to Siem Reap, but our ‘behinds’ were pretty soar after five hours of driving. Surprisingly, the last 120 kilometers weren’t that bad. The road was ‘normal’ and for a change I was able to stay in my seat. We drove through a flat landscape and now and then we passed through a village. Again we saw the misery caused by landmines. Later we were told that many farmers in that area refused to work their lands because of the many mines. After eight hours of driving we entered Phnom Penh, the capitol city of Cambodia.

Exactly 25 years ago, 17 April 1975, Khmer Rouge soldiers entered Phnom Penh and ‘liberated’ the city. Most people were happy as it implied that the war was over and a peaceful future ahead. However, with a day people were ordered to leave the city. Within 48 hours the city was emptied of its two million inhabitants. It also was the beginning of almost five years of horror as Pol Pot started its communist revolution, a revolution that would lead to a genocide. That night I attended a special evening, organized by the FCCC (Foreign Correspondents Club of Cambodia) in relation to the 25th anniversary of the fall of Phnom Penh. Two people spoke that evening (there was a third one, but nobody understood the subject he talked about). The first one was professor Stephen Morris who gave us an inside of his recent published book "Why Vietnam Invaded Cambodia" (was okay). The second speaker was just amazing. It was Al Rockoff, an American photographer who was present at the time that the Khmer Rouge entered Phnom Penh. To my surprise it appeared that his story was included in one of my favorite movies "The Killing Fields" (directed by Roland Joffe, distributed by Columbia Pictures, 1984). For those who know the movie, he was the photographer (played by John Malkovich) who tried to falsify two photo’s in a British passport in order to safe the life of the Cambodian reporter Dith Pran (played by fellow countryman Haing S. Ngor, who later wrote the book "Surviving the Killing Fields). The stories All told us were just stunning. He told us about the moments that he rushed into the streets (near the famous Hotel Le Royal, where all journalists stayed) after the first Khmer Rouge troops entered the city. He told us – very emotionally - about his rides on the by the Khmer Rouge captured army vehicles. His experiences in one of the Phnom Penh hospitals and of course about the moments that he and other journalists were being held at gunpoint by the Khmer Rouge. He told us about the many days of ‘captivity’ inside the French embassy and the long journey overland in an army truck to the border with Thailand. His most famous pictures were displayed on the wall in the FCCC. It was a very special evening, a weird one I must say. I thought about an article I read in the Bangkok Post just a week before I left for Cambodia. In this article, the American Government advised Americans to leave Cambodia, just in case the 25th anniversary would lead to something unexpected. Together with some other travelers, who stayed at the same guest house (Narin Guest House, an excellent place), we returned to our ‘home’ on the back of a moto taxi. Until late, on the terrace of Narin’s, we talked about the stories we had heard as well as our impressions of Cambodia. What a day!

Personally, I didn’t like Phnom Penh too much, but met several people who loved the place. However, two places were absolutely worth a visit: the Killing Fields (just outside Phnom Penh) and the Tuol Sleng museum. To visit the Killing Fields – near the village of Choeung Ek – I rented a bike at the Capitol Guest House. It’s only 12 kilometers south of Phnom Penh and not a bad route to bike. During the Pol Pot regime, more than 10.000 people died at Choeung Ek and were buried in mass graves. Most were taken there after being tortured in Tuol Sleng prison. Many of the victims were stripped naked and forced to kneel on the edge of a mass grave. They were killed by a blow to the back of the head with a pick axe handle (to save bullets). Before I arrived at the fields I remembered the pictures I once saw of this place, rows of skulls, which dotted the area. However, this has changed. A large monument has been erected, which holds hundreds of skulls and bones of the victims. Still you can see huge holes in the ground, the former graves. Walking through these fields was very confrontational. Here and there pieces of cloth, belonging to those who were killed, stick out of the ground. A sign on a huge tree marked the place where babies were killed, just the thought of it made me sick. That afternoon I went to Tuol Sleng. This was the central torture chamber of the Khmer Rouge. Before Pol Pot’s men created this place of absolute horror, it used to be a high school. More than 20.000 were tortured in this place which had the code name S-21. Former government soldiers, officials, academics, artists, engineers, doctors and a few foreigners were imprisoned here. Those who didn’t die under torture were transported to the Killing Fields. For me this was the most horrible place I ever visited in my life. Class rooms, which were converted in little torture rooms, in which you could see huge black and white pictures of the victims. These rooms still contained the instruments the Khmer Rouge used to torture, like the metal bed frames on which the victims were strapped and tormented with electric currents, pulling out fingernails and smashing their hands with hammers. Upstairs classrooms were turned into rows of tiny cells, barely big enough to fit a man or a woman. Victims were shackled while they waited their turn to be tortured. In another building I saw the hundreds of pictures of prisoners, this was the way the radical communists documented their victims. One picture shows a young woman with a tear falling down her cheek holding a baby. What went through her mind at that moment? I noticed that I started walking faster through the buildings, the whole setting really made me feel uncomfortable. For some reason I was the only person there at the moment, which made it even more confrontational. With many thoughts on my mind I left the place and walked up to my bike. The moment I set foot outside the gate a taxi driver walked up to me and asked me the most terrible question (at that moment in time); "Sir are you ready now to go to the AK-47 shooting range, I bring you cheap". Flabbergasted I looked at the guy and asked him if he knew which place I just visited. I took my bike and left.

Phnom Penh is famous for its chaotic traffic. Nobody seems to care and bizarre behavior is seen everywhere. For some time now the government – without success – tried to implement several new traffic rules. Many of these new ‘rules of behavior’ seem to be thought over very carefully. In a local magazine I read about one of these new rules which they (the local government) attempted to impose several years ago. This rule stated that everyone had to sit side-saddle on the back of a moto. The reason given for this rule was that it is more difficult for side-saddle-sitting riders to throw grenades. Of course every body ignored this one. One day when I walked back from the Lao embassy to my guesthouse I walked by an office building. There I saw a sign posted on the front entrance door of the building. The sign read; ‘leave car outside’. I wondered how bad traffic could be in the capitol city.

The rest of my time in Phnom Penh I used to prepare myself for the last part of my Cambodian trip, which was going to be the most daring part. My plan was to go to the northeastern province of Rattanakiri, famous for its beautiful jungle landscape, waterfalls and different hill tribes. However, getting there is full of risks. The whole trip would take at least 3 days, through an area where bandit attacks are a major risk and where the roads are the worst you can imagine. But that wasn’t all, I also planned to cross the Cambodian/Laos border, which is not open to foreigners. In Myanmar I met a Danish guy who told me how to get over. The plan appealed to me, as it would save me a lot of days traveling back to Thailand in order to get into Laos. I went to the UK embassy to obtain information about traveling up north by road. Well, they strongly advised me not to do it because of the frequent bandit attacks and apparently they also thought that there was still Khmer Rouge activity (which is not the case). This wasn’t a surprise to me the Cambodian Tourist Authority gave me similar advise. I didn’t know what to do. Did I take too many risks? Was it worth it? I couldn’t answer the questions. I also spoke with several Cambodians about the situation. They told me that the Khmer Rouge wasn’t a threat anymore. However, bandit attacks happened but they never turn violent, they simply want you money. The Cambodians I spoke to didn’t advise me not to go. However, I also knew that Cambodians think differently about these kinds of situations than ‘outsiders’, its part of their day-to-day life. One night I took the decision after evaluating all the options and risks involved. I decided to do it. I also found a travel partner, Tracy, a woman from South Africa. I met her for the first time in March, during my trip through Myanmar, and now we met again in Phnom Penh. We planned to leave the 22nd of April. First destination would be Kratie.

Today we left Phnom Penh at 7:00 hours by boat. During 6.5 hours we ‘cruised’ over the Mekong River to Kratie. It was a fast boat, average speed was approximately 50 km p/hr. We past villages alongside the river and saw other boats going up and down the famous river. From Kratie boats couldn’t go further, the water level of the Mekong was, due to the dry season, too low. Kratie appeared to be a nice little town. Old colonial buildings, a small but lively market and friendly people. To our surprise we got an excellent hotel room with attached bath and television with CNN and HBO, which I hadn’t seen in a long time for a total of US$3 per person (Heng Heng Hotel, great value). During lunch we met a 67 year old Welch man who arrived two weeks earlier, and started a volunteer job for VSO (Voluntary Service Overseas) as an English teacher. In the afternoon we hired two moto drivers who took us15 kilometers north of Kratie to watch the rare Irrawaddy dolphins in the Mekong River.

Early that morning of the 22nd we, slightly nervous, left our hotel to find a pickup truck to Stung Treng, a small town 175 kilometers north of Kratie. This route, as we were told, would be the most challenging (to say the least) and daring; the road is very bad and bandits frequently prey on travelers on this route. Especially that last aspect didn’t appeal to me too much, it worried me. I got even more worried when one of our fellow passengers – all locals – mentioned to me that also he was nervous. However, we went. It was going to be a long and with lots of adrenaline filled day. Tracy and I thought to be clever and paid a little more for an ‘inside’ place (30.000 Riel, about US$8 per person) which, supposedly gave us more comfort and safety, However, that was not the case. With seven people in the cabin we often wished to be in the back (at that time there were about 14 people and lots of luggage in the back). Anyway, we were off, later than expected as the first pickup was overloaded. We were the second and last pickup for Stung Treng that day. I kept hoping that if bandits needed cash today that they would concentrate on the first passing truck. Tracy and I developed several scenarios what to do in case of an attack. We kept some cash, but not all, in our wallets just enough to - hopefully – satisfy the bandits. I also kept my fake student ID card in my wallet (in the hope they could read that). The first few kilometers went via a reasonable road, no asphalt but a smooth dirt road with not too many potholes. But then the excitement began. I really don’t know how to describe the condition of the road, but it was worse that the route from Poipet to Siem Reap. Potholes as big as the truck itself filled with muddy water. Several times we had to get out of the car in order to increase the chances of getting through. On one occasion the road was so bad that it took the driver and his helper almost one hour to find an alternative route through the jungle (and I kept thinking about landmines). The road turned into a track, a track that would be perfect for the most challenging Camel Trophy. After we left the ‘reasonable’ road, our driver frequently threw notes of 100 Riel out of his window. Soon we found out why. Every five kilometers there was some sort of military post (not to be recognized as such, most were just a hammock between two trees in the jungle) with one or two guys. The Riel notes were to keep the soldiers ‘happy’, an extra incentive to protect us. However, I never really was able to find out if these guys on the side of the road could have been potential bandits. The weapons (mostly AK-47s) these guys were holding were impressive, some even bigger than the guys who were holding them. After one hour my butt was numb and hurt incredibly. In the back one person was throwing up all the time. "Why on earth were we in this truck?", a question I asked myself multiple times. But, on the other end it was a ‘great’ adventure, not to be missed. And again we passed a military settlement, and again a few notes of 100 Riel flew through the air. Our driver, who couldn’t speak a word of English, had a lot of fun driving his car. No pothole was too big for him, for sure he was the most relaxed guy in the truck. Every time he managed to get through a pool of mud he smiled and laughed loudly, especially after I kept hitting my head on the roof or that nasty little coat hanger above the window. Fortunately we had many breaks, some forced due to the impassable track, other to stretch our legs and to pee. It must be said though that besides the miserable conditions and the unsafe route, the scenery was magnificent. Dense jungle with huge trees, flat swampy areas, hills and sometimes we were able to see the Mekong River. Just before sunset we arrived in Stung Treng. It took us seven hours to cover the 175 kilometers, but most important, we were safe. That night we slept in the Amatak Guest House, basic place (unfortunately no CNN and HBO) close to the river. Before we left for dinner, the owner asked us what our plans were. Apparently he was told by the driver of our pickup that we planned to go to Laos via Stung Treng (which everybody knows is forbidden for foreigners). I told him that we first wanted to visit Banlung, come back to Stung Treng and then ask the local police for a ‘special permit’. "I am the police"; he said, and pointed at a big photo on the wall, which showed him in a beautiful white uniform. He also proudly showed us an official looking certificate next to the photo. Later, when he was outside, I examined the certificate. It made me laugh as it had the title "Basic Intelligence". It appeared that he was the one to approach for our border crossing adventure. But first food, the long shaky trip gave us a huge appetite. We wondered around the market and the dark streets but couldn’t find a good place. Finally we walked by a restaurant (the name was Sunn Tha Restaurant), absolutely recommended) and walked in. A group of six Cambodians sat around a big round table on which some mouthwatering dishes were displayed. Fortunately, a woman of the group spoke excellent English and explained the different dishes to us. We immediately asked the owner to prepare the same for us. One of the dishes was the most delicious, most tender deer meat I ever had. It came with rice and vegetables. We already looked forward to our return to Stung Treng, for sure we would eat here again. Price, including drinks, US$5 for two persons.

The next morning early we left Stung Treng. We were lucky. Only one pickup would make the trip to Banlung, the capitol city the Rattanakiri province, 165-km east of Stung Treng. This time we didn’t take an inside spot, but paid 25.000 Riel for a place in the back, together with ten locals (and two children) and a lot of luggage. Actually, during our trips with pick-ups, I was always amazed to see elderly women and men (I think some of them were more than seventy years old) sitting in the back of these vehicles. It is unthinkable to see such a ‘cruel’ thing in our western society. We have special seats in busses, wheelchairs on airports and other aids to make it more comfortable for these people. Here I sometimes couldn’t believe my own eyes. Just imagine an old lady, packed on top of luggage in the back of a pick-up truck, jumping up and down. And they don’t complain (at least not in English), they just kept a big smile on their faces. Before we took off Mr. Amatak gave us the advice to hide most of our money in our shoes. Yeah, we almost forgot, this also was going to be a rough trip through ‘bandit land’. So we went, with ten faces smiling at us, and a butt which hardly recovered from the adventure of the day before. To make us feel even better, we were told that the condition of the ‘road’ to Banlung was worse than the one from Kratie to Stung Treng. Great, just was we needed. After 45 minutes I saw that a huge tree blocked our road. I immediately thought about a bandit attack (how tense can one be?), it was the perfect set-up for it. Fortunately nothing happened, the tree probably fell due to the intense rain of the night before. We were lucky to be close to an army camp. A few soldiers – with our assistance – removed the tree by cutting it. And yes, this was the worst road ever. The potholes were more like bunkers on a golf course. There was water and mud everywhere. Many times we were launched into the air. I sat on the back and had to hold myself with both hands constantly, to avoid falling off. Again I was lucky to have my REI canoe kneepad with me (for US$2,50 the best investment for a more comfortable ride on buses, pickups, boats, trucks and even trains). It protected my back tremendously. Fortunately we kept laughing – most of the time at least – but silently we all hoped this trip would be over soon. Sadly, a mother and her young daughter had to throw up constantly. The route took us through dense jungle. Imagine this brown-red colored dirt track, which cuts through the jungle as far as you can see. We heard many different birds and saw the most diverse landscape. Unfortunately we also noticed that many trees were burned down by the locals in order to create land. I also remember that, in the middle of nowhere, our truck had to stop because several water buffalo’s took a leisurely bath in one of the many potholes (now you can imagine the size of these holes) which, was filled with muddy rain water.

After six very uncomfortable hours we arrived in Banlung. We already disliked the idea of going back the same route, something we eventually had to face. Banlung, a town not many foreigners (and Cambodians) get to by road. Those who make it all the way up here arrive by plane. Soon we discovered that the town was nothing special. A huge strip of dirt was the main road, alongside were several houses and shops. On both ends of the dirt road – which was flat – stood a large but ugly looking monument. There was a market, a small airstrip, two guesthouses and two hotels (both didn’t have any guests). We decided to stay at Mountain Guest House II, a quiet place with a big veranda, just behind the main road. Close were a small lake (with beautiful houses on one side) and the local, regional hospital (in which you don’t want to be hospitalized). The weather was hot and humid. Occasional down pours indicated the start of the rainy season, the monsoon (which, in this region, runs roughly from May to October). That first night we bought a few Angkor beers, a box of Pringles chips (for US$3,50) and some steamed buns, which we enjoyed after a refreshing bucket shower. During the next four days we explored the area around Banlung. We did this mostly by moto (a Dealim Citi 100), which we rented at our guesthouse (for US$5 per day). It was a great way to explore the area. Fortunately, the roads east of Banlung were in good condition, only after heavy rainfall it was hard to get around. There were many hill tribes in the area, like the Kreung, Bu, Jarai and Tampuan people. Until 1991 (the arrival of UNTAC after the end of the Indochina war) none of these people had ever seen westerners. We went to Bakeo (30-km east of Banlung) and saw the small but deep gem mining shafts. Two times we went to Yach Laom (5-km out of Banlung), a beautiful volcanic lake in which we swam after a hot and dusty day on the moto. We made a great – but difficult – trip to Virochey, a nice little village on the Tonle San river, 37-km north of Banlung. It took us two hours to get there, but it was worth it. There we also visited a 300-year-old Chinese village on the opposite bank of the river. On our way back to Banlung we had a flat tire. And what do you do, in the middle of the jungle, without a pump or any tools to repair the tube. All of a sudden a comfortable and reasonable fast vehicle becomes very heavy and useless. Fortunately a lady on a bike passed by who had a pump. We barely made it to a small village. There several boys offered us help. For a few Riel they fixed our tire, well that was what we thought they did. After a few kilometers the tire was flat again, the patch didn’t hold. We were now only 15-km from Banlung. Fortunately a young guy helped us out – this time the air stayed in our back tire. Like I mentioned before, the monsoon was not far away. Every day we had some rain and already you could see what relatively little rain could do to the roads. Banlung wasn’t the most exciting place in Cambodia, however, it had a great place to have dinner. The name of this place was ‘Rattanakiri’, but was better known as the ‘American Restaurant’. They had delicious stir fried sweet and sour vegetables with tofu and as much rice as you could eat. And they always gave fresh fruit (like a huge papaya) for dessert, free of charge! One of the nights at this restaurant I will nor easy forget. Tracy and I sat at the same table outside as all the other nights. Suddenly there was this man on the other side of the street making a lot of noise in front of a small shop (selling liquor and cigarettes). Soon it was very obvious that he was very drunk. The thing that made me slightly nervous was the fact that he had an AK-47 hanging on his shoulder. He became very angry – reason still unknown to me – and shouted at a few ladies in the shop. People in the restaurant told us that he was the local policeman and that the shop was his (apparently he was shooting at his own family). Then he suddenly took his AK-47 and positioned in such a way that I thought he was going to shoot somebody. More people started shouting and cursing. Then he and the ladies went inside. We still watched this ridiculous scene from our table just 50 meters away. We clearly could hear the (violent) discussion and also yelling ladies and see people running around. The few people at the restaurant were now all watching. Then a shot was fired. A line of fire and sparks illuminated the dark sky for just a few seconds. I immediately grabbed the arm of Tracy and we ran inside the restaurant. One local guy – also eating there – clearly wasn’t disturbed at all. "Oh he only shot through the roof of his own house"; he said with a very cool voice. Apparently this was not the first time that this happened. A man walked into the restaurant from the back and showed us the ammunition clip he removed from the policeman’s rifle (no idea how he managed to do that). But the drunken man just continued his tour of destruction; he smashed several glass displays with the back of his AK-47 and threw the merchandise on the floor. Everybody – except for that one ‘cool’ guy who continued munching on his food – was astonished. The young son of the restaurant owner held his hands over his ears and showed a face full fear. In the meantime the drunken policeman broke the glass of a cigarette dispenser and casually removed one cigarette. He soon realized that he wasn’t able to light it. So he went to the neighbors and just walked into their house and got his match. I was amazed that no ‘official’ had showed up to take care of this situation. But our western norms of safety and justice are not applicable in these kinds of countries. And of course, he – the drunken policeman - was the official here. Fortunately a man on a moto arrived and with an angry voice talked at the drunken man. He quickly removed the AK-47 and left. A few moments later the drunken man also left on his motorbike. We didn’t stay long enough in Banlung to read the story in the local newspaper, but for sure we had an exciting evening in the far ‘wild east’ of Cambodia.

Two days later we sat in the back of a pickup again. This time I had an even more uncomfortable spot in the back. Due to the severe rainfall the track was even more challenging. After approximately three hours of ‘driving’ we stopped in the middle of nowhere. As I sat in the back I couldn’t immediately see what made us stop. Then I saw it. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There, in a pothole that was as wide as the road itself and about a meter deep and ten meters long stood a small Fiat car (one of those small ones, but not the Uno). Stucked on his chassis and until the door panels in the mud, surrounded by jungle. It was obvious that the three guys who drove (?) it that far, had been here a while. A bamboo mat, a fire and many wet cloths drying on tree branches were clear signs that they camped throughout the night. I remember saying to myself and Tracy; "What the …. Are these guys doing here". I still cannot believe what I saw. How on earth did these guys make it that far? Or were they simply dropped out of an airplane? On top of the car they stored all the removable plastic side panels and the two bumpers. It took ten men about 30 minutes to ‘free’ this Fiat. I thought of making a joke to the three guys (by telling them where the four letters of Fiat stood for: Fix It Again Tony), but changed my mind. At least I had some time to erect my spine and massage my behind. Before 15:00 hours that afternoon we were back in Stung Treng, safe but with a red and painful and numb butt.

Of course we stayed at the Amatak Guest House again and ate deer meat in the Sunn Tha Restaurant. We asked Mr. Amatak to arrange our ‘special permits’ for which we had to provide copies of our Cambodian and Lao visa, and US$50 in cash (which he assured to us was not going in his own pocket, yeah right.). He told us that he had to talk to the ‘chief’. But he assured us that we would have a letter (which basically gave us the right to pass the border) that night. Well we didn’t. So the next morning – another day in this town didn’t appeal to us – he promised us to take care of the business. Every time we discussed the ‘illegal’ matter he spoke softly and looked weird out of his eyes. Apparently the chief was busy the night before, this time he would meet him. And just before 9:00 hours he gave us a small hand written note (on official looking paper) which we couldn’t check for its contents as it was written in Khmer. But he assured us that we wouldn’t have any problems. He would even radio the border post and tell them about us. He arranged a small boat for us and off we were. The boat ride over the Mekong River was fantastic. Beautiful thick trees with their many roots above the waterline could be seen everywhere, as well as many birds, fishermen and small settlements on the river sides. The sometime powerful rapids rocked the boat. Our boatsman did a great job moving the boat over the river, avoiding huge rocks. It took six hours to reach the Cambodian border post, two bamboo houses and a little shack on the riverside. Despite the fact that we had a letter of the Stung Treng immigration police – which should guarantee us a trouble free departure from Cambodia (and an exit stamp). I still was slightly nervous about it. What if these guys had a ‘rough’ day or simply didn’t like us? The thought of another long boat ride back to Stung Treng didn’t appeal to me. We handed over our passports and the ‘magic’ letter. Two young guys – one in uniform the other in shorts – examined our passports for about 20 minutes. They looked at all the stamps except the one given by the Cambodian immigration on our arrival. Finally they looked at us and said that they only would give us a stamp (which we needed to enter Laos) if we paid US$20. We kindly explained to them that we already paid US$50 and that we were guaranteed a trouble free passage. They simply repeated; "yes, 20 dollars". We asked them to radio Stung Treng to confirm our departure. They said, of course, that they didn’t have a radio. When we pointed our hands in the direction of a huge antenna, which was attached to one of the houses, they said that the battery was dead. We refused to pay the additional US$20. The two guys told us that we then had to wait three to four hours for the chief, who was on the Lao side (having a casual coffee with his Lao colleagues). We again talked to them and tried to make a deal. One was willing to do that, the other refused. In the end we weren’t able to leave and simply had to wait for the ‘chief’. In the meantime the guys of the border post passed their time by playing volleyball, chatting and sleeping. They didn’t care about us at all. After more than three hours the chief arrived. This guy, who looked even more annoyed than his subordinates, looked at the letter and our passports and walked away. It was clear that we had to pay the US$20. After paying and obtaining the stamp, we somewhat disappointed left Cambodian soil. The boat took us to the other side of the Mekong. Here Lao pleasantly greeted us. However, the immigration hut was empty. Some kids got the official for us who stamped us in (also here we had to pay, US$5 each). It was close to 18:00 hours and we were exhausted. The immigration official told us that we had to wait until the next day for a bus to take us to the nearest town, Ban Khinak, which was 35-km north. We asked him about alternative transportation, there wasn’t any. We asked him about a guesthouse, there wasn’t one. Merdre! Sleeping on a bamboo bench with millions of mosquito’s around us wasn’t something we looked forward to. We kept asking about transportation and if we could arrange something ourselves. The bus which was scheduled to leave the next morning already was parked at the little border post. We talked to the driver and he was willing to drive us to Ban Khinak. We negotiated the price (US$10, which is a small fortune) and off we were again.

After I left Cambodia I though a lot about my travels there. In retrospect I concluded that this country wouldn’t appear on my ‘top 10 list of best countries to visit’. Sure, Angkor was nice but that was for me – except for some real adventure – the only highlight. Cambodia is not a nation for the low budget traveler (if you stay in the traditional tourist areas). It was expensive, especially compared to countries like Laos, Myanmar, Vietnam and even Laos. I partly blame the huge presence of UN related organizations and NGO’s for this. Many Cambodians were very money focussed, but that is not unique for Cambodia. The spending power among staff of the relief organizations is enormous (tax free dollar salaries). I have never been in a country where I have seen so many UN cars driving around, especially in Phnom Penh. And know where your tax money is going. The standard UN car in Phnom Penh, based on my own observations, was the Toyota Landcruiser. I also was told, by a journalist who lived in Phnom Penh that between 10% to 20% of all funds available for aid is being spent on those who really need it. Where is the other 80% to 90% going? I also was told that the frequent customers of the flourishing prostitute market in Cambodia (especially in Phnom Penh) are people working for the various relief organizations.

Traveling over land through Cambodia is not without discomfort and risk. Most roads are in very poor condition, many just hopeless (is that the reason for the many Landcruisers?). Also traveling by car, boat or train could involve some risks other than the risks you normally would think of. I also noticed the sometimes very cold and not pleasant approach of the Cambodians towards foreign travelers, especially in Siem Reap (with rural areas being a huge difference). A big difference compared to the people of countries like Laos, Thailand, Myanmar and Vietnam. However, I also realize that the people of Cambodia suffered a lot in the (recent) past. For a long time Cambodia was the forgotten and troubled region of Southeast Asia. For a long time nobody in the world cared much about this country. That is probably also the reason for the many relief organizations now being present, I guess to pay off some guilt.