16/4/25
We woke early to the sounds of rumbling. It was a little bit ominous. We really didn’t want to get caught in a heavy downpour. But we had no choice but to leave anyway.
Today was our big push to Stung Treng. We tried to stop for coffee, but the guy took so long wandering around we gave up. We started climbing up hill. The road was set to be very undulating. We saw a lady fall off while she was trying to scoot up the drive from her house. The rain had loosened the dirt. Jonathan helped lift her scooter up the steep ramp.
The landscape was monotonous. Fields and fields. Not much else. We went up and down. Mostly we enjoyed seeing the pyramids of cassava stalks. They can make anything picturesque.
We stopped for a coffee at the first village. We sat at a little restaurant with the locals. We desperately wished we could understand them and converse with them. The inability to communicate hung over the situation. It was masked by smiles on both sides. The coffee was ridiculously thick. A rich cup of joe that we promptly watered down with hot water, refusing the usual offer of condensed milk.
When we continued, we were dappled with light rain. But no rumbling. We felt safe. In the distance we could see some peaks rising. We went up and over the highest point of our day. We were treated to incredible views of the karsts. Some shrouded in mist. From here we would go further downhill then we went uphill.
At the halfway point, we stopped where there was a shelter outside a garage. We sliced up one of the green mangoes that we’d gained from the owner of the accommodation the night before. We prepared some soy sauce and sugar. Then a small boy came over with a bag of red chilli, salt and sugar. It might have had fish paste in but we couldn’t refuse. He came back with some water two minutes later. Then a woman came over with yet more mango. Slightly riper than the one we had. We were very grateful. People with so little always share what they do have.
We were going full steam ahead. It was incredibly cool weather. Sure it was 30C but there was no Sun and the skies were cloudy. A motorcade came smashing through. Hazards on. Cambodian, Thai and Laos flags printed on their bonnets. Everyone pulled over deferentially.
We saw some boys playing in a muddy ditch with sticks. Sure, kids at home do that too. But their parents were nowhere to be seen. It didn’t look like they had a very good quality of life. They waved, full of smiles, and shouted “Hello!”
We broke up the journey by stopping for a drink. Some guy swinging in his hammock. Two coolers. One empty. One nothing but water and energy drinks. We shared an energy drink and had a bottle of water each. We were getting closer to the city. It showed. Occasionally some expensive cars came past. A BMW. A Ford Mustang. Inequality gets even worse near the cities.
It was starting to get hot. The clouds burning up at about 12 o’clock. We still had 10km left. We’d be having to cross the Mekong soon and would get our first sight of the 12th longest river in the world.
The bridge was steep. It was odd not to get any kind of lateral eyeline on the structure. It was lined with flags. When we got near the centre we paused to absorb the view. The Mekong was far wider than we’d expected. Some young men had also pulled over and they took our picture for us.
The descent down the other side was anticlimactic. We weren’t in the city yet. It was several kilometres of steeply undulating roads before we arrived. Followed by diversions caused by road closures for the festivities. Any side road in Cambodia is at the very least covered in loose gravel.
We’d chosen Savet Guesthouse. Solely on account of the review that said there was secure bicycle parking. It was a covered alleyway with a gate. Likely better than the previous night. The staff were young, and therefore grumpy. Our room was on the top floor. Four steep flights of stairs. Our legs wailed. The air conditioning was strong. We could hear the bass from music nearby.
There was a restaurant nearby, Ponika’s Palace, that was on HappyCow. We took an indirect route to avoid the water throwing blockades that had been set up. We ordered some tofu curries to takeaway. Then walked round the market to buy some fruits. The children didn’t squirt us with water. They looked tempted but they don’t spray foreigners if you say no. We circled back round to collect our food and headed back to our cooled sanctuary.
The afternoon, and then evening, quickly vanished. In our room the music started to build louder and louder. We couldn’t leave this time. We’d already paid for the room. When it reached our bedtime, 8pm, there was still too much noise to sleep peacefully. It was the reverberating bass that was disruptive. Jonathan found relief with earplugs. Frankie didn’t like them. She had to persevere without. It tailed off by 10:30pm.
Surly They Won't Make It 