Impressions

The border between Vietnam and Cambodia, as I mentioned in a previous post, is sort of a Three Stooges comedy of bueracracy. The actual border, however, defines a stark contrast. It is almost like a light switch in its suddenness.

Once over the border into Cambodia, the countryside is much more rural. Traffic, while still insane in methodology, is much, much lighter. Our vomit van driver, true to his ilk, was the worst offender in increasing the insanity, using any lane at anytime, oncoming being his favorite, narrowly missing everything even if he could miss it widely, and generally being a terror to all sentient beings. There are only swift and agile creatures that are furred and feathered. The rest are road-kill.

There are open spaces along the road here. The continual line of shop houses on either side of the road that is the norm in Vietnam gives way to true openess. It reminds me of Lao. Rural folks are drying rice on the edges of the road, water buffalo wander about.

I am now in Kampot Province. The most recent (and former) claim to fame for Kampot is Kampot Pepper. I had my first taste of the Kampot Peppercorns last night with my hand pulled noodles. This fine pepper is a black peppercorn with a rich and pungent aroma and it packs a flavorful and explosive punch. This regional pepper is the first to gain a GI, or geographical indicator, from my foodie buddies the French. So, as Champagne can only come from the Champagne Region of France, Kampot pepper, well, you get the idea.

The pepper industry is just coming into its own again after being wiped out by the Khmer Rouge. Pol Pot and his zealous murderers believed in "Rice not Spice" so they destroyed almost the entire Kampot Pepper industry, an industry which had been refined by the French Colonialists many decades before. Prior to that, the Dutch and English spice pirates "traded" here for the pepper worth almost its weight in gold.

The crazed fanatics of the Khmer Rouge left a trail of destruction around Kampot province. After years of dealing with Pol Pot and the murders of Vietnamese citizens on the border, the Vietnamese army invaded Cambodia. One of the places that the Vietnamese encountered heavy fighting was at the Bokor Hill Station in the hills above Kampot town. The Viets and Khmer Rouge traded fire from 500 meters for weeks before the Khmer Rouge evaporated.

Kampot town has no beach. It lies on a river. The lack of beach has kept the hedonism of the backpacker set confined mostly to Sianoukville up the coast and Kep, back towards Vietnam. This place reminds me somewhat of a much smaller Luang Prabang, the UNESCO World Heritage Site in Lao. Lots of crumbling French Colonial Architecture, a smallish but well developed tourist infrastructure, and rural hills and rivers surrounding the town.

And so, it is off for walk-about. I have pepper to buy and Dong to exchange and bridges to cross. And the heat, well, the heat waits for no Stooge. Only the looney-toon mutts and those from the United Kingdom venture out into the noonday sun.