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National Language: Khmer
Main religion: Buddhism
Population: 10 million (1975: 7 million; 1979: 5 million)
Currency: riel (r4000 = roughly US$1)
GDP: less than $1 per day
Famous for: The Killing Fields, Angkor Watt, landmines.
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2004
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With my false sense of invincibility, I wasn't particularly worried about riding a dirt-bike around Cambodia, on my own, with almost zero previous motorcycling experience. Renting the bike had been a bit tricky- the bike shop owner wasn’t too impressed when I had to be shown how to start the thing. He was even less impressed when I told him my plan to take one of his bikes out into the back of beyond; north-eastern Cambodia, near the border with Vietnam. I received a stern lecture about impassable roads, wild animals, landmines and Khmer Rouge rebels hiding out in the jungle eking out a living by doing terrible things to unsuspecting travelers (wild animals aside, he had a point).
But I had persisted, and riding through the sun-baked streets of Phnom Penh on a big, fat, noisy dirtbike I knew I would be fine. The sun, the blue skies, the way the bike roared and reared when I opened up the throttle; it all told me everything would be OK. Besides, there was Invincibility Theory to think about.
About two months previously, I’d spent two weeks trekking in Nepal with an Irishman named Kieran. Kieran had introduced me to Invincibility Theory. Invincibility Theory goes something like this; it is vital when travelling to consider yourself invincible at all times. Otherwise you’d worry about doing anything that isn’t in the Lonely Planet, and would miss out on doing all the fun things. Invincibility Theory Part One; so long as you convince yourself that you’re invincible, you’ll have lots of adventures, because you’ll do everything you want to do without being held back by fear. Invincibility Theory Part Two: so long as you convince yourself you’re invincible, you don’t need to worry about getting hurt because, after all, you’re invincible.
Two weeks later, lying in a bloody heap on the road about 300km from Phnom Penh, I discovered that although Part One of the theory is spot on, Part Two has its problems.
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In Bangkok before I left Thailand, the only book I could find on Cambodia that wasn’t about the Khmer Rouge years was entitled "Guns, Girls and Ganja: Off the Rails in Phnom Penh". The title pretty much summed up the book, which was mainly an account of the vice-filled lives of washed-out English teachers in this impoverished country’s capital.
What else did I know about Cambodia? That it is one of the most heavily land-mined countries in the world. The Khmer phrase for, “Are there any landmines in this area?” is in the Lonely Planet guidebook’s useful phrases page. Cambodia is a poor country, sandwiched between its two more successful neighbours, Thailand and Vietnam. While the latter two countries have lately been reaping the financial harvest of a global free-market economy, Cambodia saw out the end of the twentieth century still afflicted by years of political instability, uncertain of its future, internationally irrelevant and economically impotent.
Genocide, war, poverty, landmines. A chaotic capital city filled with drugs and vice. All definitely part of Cambodia’s story. But definitely not the whole story.
From the moment I crossed the border, rucksack on back and cold beer in hand (bought for 25 pence from a lady sitting by the immigration desk with an ice cooler), I saw a side of Cambodia I hadn't expected. The immigration official collecting the obligatory 100 Thai baht “tourist tax” was warm and jovial and made us laugh even as he was extorting our money. As we walked to the bus stop, a group of children sitting in a dusty shack wearing colourful plastic sunglasses waved and laughed at us.
Soon myself and 11 other backpackers were bumping along in the back of an open-top truck, sandwiched between our backpacks, the only thing stopping us flying off the back at every pothole being how tightly packed we were. The sun was setting over the rice paddies; water buffaloes, stilted wooden houses and men and women on battered and overloaded bicycles passed by, and children waved as we passed. The wide, concrete roads of Thailand had ended on the other side of the border and from here on it would be dirt roads all the way to Phnom Penh. It was beautiful and I decided that as soon as I could, I would rent a bike and go exploring.
