Kampot Adventure!

This past weekend, I went to Kampot with a group of volunteers. In the southwest of Cambodia and set on the Gulf of Thailand, Kampot is mountainous and beautiful. After staying overnight in Takeo, we set off around 6 AM in a "lan touri" (a van, basically, except that these are similar to Marry Poppins' bag in that they can fit 25-30 people in them, but dissimilar in that they do not have endless space), and got to Kampot around 8. We dropped our stuff off at the guesthouse where we thought we'd be staying (more on that later), and set off to find breakfast. We'd heard there are a lot of Western style restaurants in Kampot, so we made it our first order of business to find them.

We did, fairly quickly, and ate at a restaurant called "Sister's," a breakfast establishment owned by two Cambodian women who grew up together in an orphanage in Sihounouk. They learned to cook from an American woman when they were young, and were able to open up a restaurant together when they got older. They now own three restaurants: one in Sihounouk, one in Kampot, and one in Phnom Penh, and have plans for more. They even bring girls from the orphanage to learn to cook from them and work at the restaurants, when they are so inclined. It's a great opportunity for those whose options for work might otherwise be looking pretty grim, and sometimes even dangerous and illegal.

After breakfast, we waddled back to the guesthouse, where we'd thought enough time had passed to where we could now check in. Low and behold, our rooms (that we'd previously reserved), were still occupied by those who'd been staying in them the night before, and the guests were saying they weren't wanting to leave that day after all! To our Western minds, this turn of events was pretty incredible. After cursing to ourselves and thinking negative thoughts for a few moments' time about the unjustness of it all, we got over it, and lugged our stuff to a nearby guesthouse, where there was room. Unfortunately, though, this is what started seeping out from underneath my bed, after I'd sat down on it for a few seconds:

I tried telling myself it was just coke or tea, but that didn't help much when the puddle continued to grow, and I could not, for the life of me, find its source...

Despite the huge, scary bathroom, the hour or so when the power went out, and the unidentifiable liquid, the guesthouse was really fine! After a couple of meals of heavy, delicious, buttery, dairy-y food, a couple of us decided it was time to go on a hike. Bruce, Christin, and I set off to find the Wat near the base of the mountain, which we were told would lead to the ocean.

 

We started by crossing this bridge, a very odd site because of its many different styles of architecture. It's been built and rebuilt many times due to its destruction during the Khmer Rouge.

We walked through many villages, and past many rice fields. The scene turned greener, and the ground, more orange.

We stopped and "ongkoy lang"ed (sat and chatted) with a group of Cambodians who ushered us over to their hut to rest for a while.We started to pass salt flats and we knew we were on the right track. We attracted a Cambodian man, who took it upon himself to act as our guide, following us closely on his bicycle, encouraging us to peer into the salt flats when we expressed curiosity to see the inside of them, offering us fruit from nearby trees, and encouraging us that the ocean was "jut" (near), whenever we became doubtful. 

  

Our Cambodian friend, Christin, and Bruce walking along the path

 

After nearly two hours of walking, we finally were close, and then we were there.

 The mountains across the Gulf belong to Kep and Rabbit Island, home to sandy beaches and stilted bungalows. This is the spot some of the other volunteers traveled to this past weekend.

We promptly sat down, exhausted and exhilerated, our Cambodian guide following suit. It started to drizzle slightly, which came as a relief to our tired, overheated bodies.After a few moments of sitting and taking in our surroundings, we gazed around at each other. "Time to go?" Yep. We had a long way to backtrack. We didn't get back to Kampot until after 6:30, after the point at which we had to start using the lights on our cell phones to guide our way home. Christin and I especially were exhausted, our feet blistered, our muscles strained. (Turns out, Birkenstocks aren't the best shoes for a twelve mile hike!) I think I was literally limping by the time we got back to the guesthouse, but the whole journey was worth it. We came into contact with some great people we otherwise would have not, and were rewarded with inspiring views along the way.

The celebrations for Pchum Ben are still going strong! We're in the home stretch of the holiday at this point- Pchum Ben Day is tomorrow- and it's really within the last few days when the festivities are all day affairs anyway. This morning, at 3:00 AM, I got up to go to the Wat with my Khmai teachers and a few other volunteers. We brought sticky rice, which you throw into wooden bins around the Wat as an offering to ancestors, and lit incense and candles during a ceremony in which the monks chant, praying for and blessing the ancestors.

Preparing our plates of sticky rice before the start of the ceremony

 

Adding our plate to the pile. That's Kanhurin, holding the plate of rice: my Khmai teacher!

Only a few more days left with my family. I leave, with the other volunteers, for Phnom Penh on Thursday, and will be moving in with my new host family on October 4th or so. I'm really going to miss my training family. They've helped me through the initial shock of being here, and I think will continue to be a great support for me as I settle into my new home. 

I'll keep you posted on the unfolding of events in the coming days!