First impressions of Cambodia

The beautiful golden shower tree

I arrived in Cambodia two days ago, travelling from Bangkok through the border at Paoy Paet and on to Siem Reap, the town closest to Angkor and its temples. The road quality changes immediately after the border; a wide, dusty track here, tarmac there, usually with no smooth crossover to merge the two. Driving is on the left in Thailand and the right in Cambodia but the need for any haphazard switchover was negated by the border crossing; lanes are merely suggestive here in any case. The driver on my bus is conscientious about protecting his fellow road users: when he overtakes tuk tuks or school children on motorbikes and bicycles he toots his horn repetitively to warn them, and then gives them such a wide berth that we are now driving into oncoming traffic. But there is always space for everyone on the road: the key is neat and sharp weaving with impeccable timing. There seems to be a unexpected focus on self-preservation here: I see many road signs encouraging the use of helmets for motorbike and tuk tuk drivers. The signs picture a brutal pile-up involving a few vehicles - I think if I had looked closer I would have seen limbs dangling from the car windows - and in the foreground two beautiful women are driving away from the scene on a motorbike, wearing helmets, of course - with disturbingly serene smiles on their faces which make me wonder whether they caused the accident in the first place by malicious planning. But the reminders clearly work: most locals are indeed wearing helmets; it's the foreigners who forego them.

The landscape changes immediately after the border to a flat agricultural countryside. Corrugated iron roofed shacks emanating a sense of poverty are surrounded by rich vegetation. In every garden there is a mango tree heavy with small green fruits. There are banana trees, coconut palms, trees with brown nut-like fruits which I think might be longans, and another tree with ovoid, brown fruits which look a little like sweet potatoes. The side of the road is scattered with empty coconut shells. There is a strong disparity here between the quality of life and the riches of nature. Large heaps of rubbish are piled into ditches on the road side, and above the festering litter there are beautiful, bright bushes laden with flowers of every colour. Everywhere there are trees with light green leaves and vivid yellow flowers draped like bunches of grapes from every branch: I discover later that these are called golden shower trees. 

A bright and ornate Buddhist shrine in a ramshackle front yard

We pass a few primary schools; some hosted in a tumbledown building, others more established. The children are dressed smartly in uniform, and a lot of them wave happily at the bus as we pass. In the distance there sometimes appears a huge temple standing tall in the flat landscape, preceded by an unassuming dirt track and an ornate Angkorian gateway. We pass stalls on the side of the road selling fresh coconuts and a clear yellow liquid in glass Pepsi bottles that I think might be blackmarket fuel. There are a lot of political signs: Cambodian People's Party (the current ruling party), Cambodia National Rescue Party, Cambodia Nationality Party, FUNCINPEC Party ("Front Uni National pour un Cambodge Indépendant, Neutre, Pacifique, et Coopératif"). The French influence is clear here in small ways: red and white road signs indicating arrival and departure from a town; signs outlining the number of kilometres to the next town; a Charles de Gaulle Boulevard. Even the landscape feels Loiresque at times: agricultural plains of angular fields interspersed with tall lines of palm trees shading long, straight roads. If I let my eyes glaze over I can almost convince myself that they are poplar trees. As we approach Siem Reap the vista becomes industrialised and commercial. I start to see gems of Engrish: "Japanese Pizza Yes"; Total Fashion Coffee and Bakery"; Happy Dreamily Pizza"; and my favourite, "First and best oriental mushroom bath!" (Google tells me that this is exactly what it sounds like.)

I notice quickly how friendly and gentle the people are, which makes the harrowing history of this country somehow even worse to contemplate. The default facial expression here is a deep, genuine smile. Passing faces in tuk tuks smile brightly at me. I don't feel a burden of touristic commercialism here, unlike in Bangkok or KL. People are trying to make money, but if they can be of help without receiving reimbursement, they will offer it. When I became disorientated returning from the night market to my hostel, I stopped to ask some tuk tuk drivers for directions, and instead of trying to persuade me to simply get in the vehicle and let them drive me there, they had a look at the map and pointed me in the right direction. Likewise, at the border in Poipet I was offered a lift by some motorbike drivers, and when I explained that I was travelling by bus, they cheerily waved me on with a smile. When we passed them in the bus a few moments later, they all smiled and waved again. The people seem industrious and non-materialistic: I couldn't lock the door to my room on the first night here, and instead of taking the very western mentality of discarding and replacing anything that doesn't work (or in this case moving me to a different room), they conjured up a man with a screwdriver who simply fixed the lock for me while I waited. 

Yesterday I visited the temples at Angkor, which I don't think I will write about, because I can't; it's too awesome, in the literal sense of the word. Tomorrow I am going to volunteer for a couple of days at a school in a village not far from here, which I am very excited about.