Day 67: Phnom Penh

Awake, it's 8am, plenty of time to pack and ready myself for the bus today. I'm going to Phnom Penh, well known for two things:

1. Worldwide known for the Killing Fields and the S-21 prison, both locations of inhumane atrocities and genocide perpetrated at the hands of the Khymer Rouge.

2. The ability to fire heavy artillery. From shooting AK 47's at targets to launching rockets at cows, if you've got the green, you reign supreme.

I will only be taking part in one of these two activities, fancy a guess at which one? Nah, the more affordable but less adventurous one, though admittedly both are culturally shocking.

Local bus arrives to take me to the main bus station. As we drive, see parts of Siem Reap I've never seen, dirt and trash built up in the gutters of the road, fairly well constructed homes next to shanty's with tarps for roofs, some people hanging inside cardboard boxes for relief from the heat. Inside the local bus, mosquito's travel in packs and are everywhere. Apparently this bus is their home and we are invading. I see a cluster of them swarm an unsuspecting white guy two tows back who apparently had not lathered himself with deet. It wasn't pretty. This is especially disconcerting since the is one of the hubs of the malaria epidemic, as told by our government. Most westerners are encourage to be on meds, but the side effects are to be something awful, so I settled for deep Woods Off with Deet. Have yet to be bitten, thankfully, hoping I make it out of Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos unscathed!

Board the touring bus ... It's full size but local at best. Drop my baggage off underneath, grab myself a window seat near the front. Watch as the only other white person I've seen boards and proceeds towards the back of the bus.

Not 30 seconds later, a Cambodian from the bus company comes to my seat and asks, "you sit your friend?" I'm sorry, who's my friend? He points towards the rear of the bus where the other white guy is sitting. "Pease, you sit your friend?" Who? The other white guy? I don't know him? I shake my head no. He shakes his head yes. Listen, I don't want to sit in the back of the bus. Is this a white thing? He grabs my arm, "You sit in back, come on, go go." So it's gonna be like that? Going Rosa Parks on me because I'm white. I see how you are. I'll move but I ain't happy.

I proceed to the back of the bus and sit next to the only other white person on the bus, some British bloke. To add injury to insult, the aircon vent is broken, no matter which way it's turned, it blows straight down on the Brit, leaving me with only hot stale air. Now you would think with the air coming down on the Brit, it'd have to be displaced about him and onto my seat, mysteriously though, that is not the case. So instead I spend the next 6 hours giving my best impression of Bikram Yoga without the yoga. Brilliant.

Pull into Phnom Penh, traffic is a mess, buses, cars, tuk tuks and motorbikes all fighting for space on the small 4 lane road, 1/2 of the outside lane consumed by parked cars back ends. As sweat trickles downs my throat, back soaked, look out to gray cold buildings that line the road, some 3 story, some 4, entrances on ground floor, 1/2 gated, most open air, dust and dirt lining the pavement and sidewalks. And then we see a KFC, red as an apple, busy as a bees nest, on the corner of a major intersection. Something about seeing western conveniences makes me nostalgic for home. I wonder if Cambodians are the same way while in America? You know, they're in Phoenix, dust lines the roads, it's hotter than hades in the dead of summer and someone is cooking street food near the stadium? Nah, probably not.

We come to some kind of market, bus stops, "Phnom Penh". As we exit the bus, 10 tuk tuk drivers lie in wait, "Happy?" Yes, that's the name of the guesthouse, how'd he know that? Yeah, Happy Guesthouse. How much? "$4, $4". Oh, I should mention that I told the Brit about Happy and now we are friends, going to share a room since Phnom Penh has no dormitory hostels. So the Tukie (like cabbie but tuk tuk driver) is asking for $8 for the two of us = wayyy too much. No! $2, $2 only. I start to turn away, "Ok, ok". Probably could of gone cheaper, but it's $2, who cares.

Happy Guesthouse is also known as Guesthouse #11. It's on this river/lake area where all the backpackers stay. It's $10/night for an extremely basic room, sorta clean, with aircon. All the rooms are on land, the rest of the place stretches out over water, this would be the reception area, tv nook, billiards area, and balconied private seating floating huts. Pretty cool design, it's hot as balls, probably 95 to 100 degrees but there is a breeze coming off the water which helps.

One brilliant thing about guesthouses and hostels, they deal with backpackers and travelers everyday, so easily prepared to meet our needs. Inquire with the lady behind the counter about a visa to Vietnam, the only country I'm visiting that does not allow for border visas. $44 1 day delivery. The visa itself is to be $35 or $40, so I jump on it. Hand over my passport, hand over cash, deal! Next line of business, tuk tuk driver for tomorrow to see the Killing Fields and S21 Prison. Last bit of business, food. Look at the menu, good range of food, happy face stickers on some of the items. I think, that's fun, they really take their name to heart. But then I see at the bottom, 1 happy face sticker costs $5, 2 happy face stickers (extremely happy) costs $10. Thats weird. My British friend informs me, these are special brownies or pizzas or shakes, they have Mary Jane in them. Ohhhh, steer clear of those items.

Alright time for bed. Nite nite friends from your favorite iPhone blogger!