Kampuchea

The day (has it only been a day?) falls into three parts:

Part one – Crossing the border

I was going to take a photo at the Thai/Cambodia border, but everyone looked hot and dirty and cranky.

The border crossing involved a lot of go here, go there, you don't need a passport photo, $20 fee, no, $23 fee, come back here, you do need a photo, get a stamp there, go and get on the truck, no you can't go through there.

Part two – Seeing some things

O Cambodia. Go. Go to Cambodia.

The people here are extraordinary. We went on the Bamboo Train and visited the village around the brickworks.

I was taught by some of the village children to count to five, say 'hello', 'goodbye', 'cow' and 'rooster' in Khmer.

 

Find a Cambodian guide (ours, Sam, is marvellous), or go with Dragoman. I can't tell you what I have learned, it is too much to think about again so soon, but there is a reason our itinerary sounds so bleak at this stage.

The stairs out of the killing cave - didn't photograph the cave

I can see why so many Westerners come here and convert to Buddhism. We stood at the bottom of the killing cave and Sam told us stories and Buddhism made sense. By the time we had returned to the truck, my spiritual destitution had reasserted itself. 

 

The thought of coming back here to teach has crossed my mind, but I have a feeling that it is just the big talk that sometimes happens.

Tomorrow we are going to the killing fields.

Bats at 6.30pm. Looked like the milky way.

Buddha emerging from the cliff.

Part Three – Cambodian Hot Pot and Disco.

Just to indicate how On Holidays I am, we followed a gut-stretching meal at a hot pot restaurant with a Cambodian disco. Where I would have danced all night, but for dehydration.