Remembering The Bus Journey

We arrived into Cambodia at lunchtime via Phnom Penh airport, from Vientiane in Laos. Time was tight, but we were anxious to get to Sisowith Quay to see if it were possible to catch a bus straight to Siem Reap. All indications were that we were chasing rainbows, but luck presented us with a wonderful Tuk Tuk driver who pumped his lawnmower engine to the max and tout de suite, took us to our destination.

Of course, as any guide or forum entry will tell you, our planned route was such a popular one that it was necessary to book seats in advance. All the tourist buses were full to the brim. Nonetheless, our tireless driver went from point to point around the Sisowith area to try to find us some seats. Ultimately, a spot was found for us on a local bus. While we knew it would probably take us anything up to 7 hours on one of these things, we were simply relieved to be on our way. We gratefully thanked our driver with an extra few dollars, worth it for the smile alone, and got on board leaving him with our names and regards.

Surprisingly, the bus journey was smooth and much quicker than anticipated. The vehicle itself was half empty, unlike the tourist versions that we had been trying to board. The leather seats were pockmarked and the faux Victorian-like fringed curtains faintly musty, but, ignoring the local persistently staring at us from behind his surgical mask, the passage was still surprisingly comfortable. The Cambodian countryside was a picture of quiet simplicity, peppered with farming fields and stilted houses under which families gathered to eat and socialize. After a while, it began to pass us by in a bit of a haze, as our heavy eyes fell from the exhaustion of our earlier journey.

We paused at a couple of road stops along the way where I was amused by Una and Ruth's horror at the boiled, upturned, kumquat decorated turtles, and locals chowing down on deep fried crickets. The toothless old guy sitting in front of us seemed to be enjoying the bugs as he turned around to gives us grin while sucking in and gumming down on a grasshopper leg.

People got on, people got off, fruit sellers advertised their wares and small children tried to get a dollar out of you for the pleasure of using the squatter, everything on sale was four times what the local beside you was paying for the same thing, but then that's capitalism for you.

Back on the bus I watched the world go by and its colour change as the day moved on. Motorbikes are the main mode of transport here and minute by minute they passed us by carrying saffron wrapped monks or complete families. Every house had a squared sump pond, some full, some dry, and in most cases a cow and some foul. Flowers decorated each garden, and every 400 yards or so was a blue banner advertising the Peoples Communist Party.

After 5 hours of counting the dates above the doors of the stilted houses, we arrived in Siem Reap, just as dusk was settling in across the sky. The bus meandered its way up and down the red dust roads of the town which was much bigger than I expected, eventually pulling into a gated depot of sorts.
The gates were closed behind the bus while we got off and reclaimed our bags. When they were opened however, a sea of Tuk Tuk drivers swelled in on top of us, each trying to take out bags and insisting we go with them. Like a ray of sanity within the madness, miraculously, a kindly looking man appeared out of the cloud holding a sign with my name on it.


What a clever chap our Phnom Penh driver was. As soon as we had pulled off in the bus, he texted his buddy in Siem Reap with the bus number and our names. Believe me, right then and there, surrounded by a herd of over-eager and over-heated Tuk Tukkers, our new friend, Kosal, was welcome. The familiarity may have been fake, but it quickly freed us from a very surreal moment.

Happily, Kosal did not have any interest in trying to sell us a particular guest house. On the night we arrived, the town was particularly busy, but he patiently drove us around to more than a few different places of our choosing to try to find a bed. Eventually, we found a spot about 10 minutes walk from Bar Street, comfortable and clean, where we threw ourselves into a much overdue shower.

Kosal ended up becoming our guide and driver for the next 3 days we were there, and a fantastically patient one he was at that.