We awoke in the morning to the early light in Phnom Penh (PP) and the sounds of roosters crowing in the streets below our 9th floor hotel room.   By 6 a.m. the streets were already abuzz with activity.  Although the urge to shore up our batteries with a little more sleep, there is a level of excitement that we could hardly contain.  So many things that need to be discovered.

Downstairs awaited a huge spread of Khmer and Western breakfast options.  We enjoyed some exotic fruits including papaya and dragonfruit.  My favorite was the spicy noodle soup that can be found in many Southeast Asian cultures.

Needing a few supplies, we were advised to walk a few blocks to the Russian Market.  Wow!  What an overwhelming immersion into Cambodian culture.  The market was truly amazing, and at the same time, quite frightening.  Throughout the labyrinth of stalls you could find everything you’d need such as clothing, antiques, motorcycle parts, tools, “groceries”, etc.  I really wished that we had pictures to show, but strangely the forethought and opportunity didn’t arise.

Beth and I came to this exotic land with the intention of doing some adventurous eating.  We always joked about how food wasn’t authentic unless you bought it out of someone’s trunk (Jamaica).  Well, one trip through the meat and fish section of the Russian Market may have changed the entire scope of this vacation.  The sights and sounds were quite horrifying; too much for most western sensibilities.  Meat being carried in large clear bags and being butchered right before you.  Fish, scary fish, being cleaned on the stone floor next to the merchant’s feet and then put up on the table for sale.  Sanitary preparation was certainly not on anyone’s mind.  The smell?  Although tolerable, it unfortunately set the tone on what we imagined every time a new food odor would present itself.  Having had enough of this invasion to the senses we worked to maneuver our way out of this “food” area.  At every turn we found new horrors; a quiet feeling of panic began to creep in until we found our exit.

Back on the street we found the traffic in PP to be completely dangerous and out of control.  Cars, Trucks, tuk tuks, and a million scooters all whirled around in a way that seemed insanely choatic and yet had a synergy that seemed to work.  Regardless, crossing the street was usually a harrowing experience.  (video insert)

We did see some pretty nice things on our little walk about.

 

By 10:30 a.m. Beth and I were ready to take the “3 hour” taxi ride to Sihanoukville (SV).  Perhaps the slower pace of the touristy beach/backpacker town might help us ease into this massive culture shock.  The cab ride started out relatively uneventful.  My seatbelt was probably a little below normal safety standards, but I was certain that it wouldn’t be needed… yeah, right.  The taxi driver, who spoke NO English, was quite nice and hospitable.  He presented us with something to eat during the drive.  It took a couple of hours to muster the courage to try what I would compare to a rice based tamale.  We tasted it, but that was enough.  :\

The drive itself was long, but fascinating.  There were a lot of interesting sights to see along the way.  Leaving the bustle of PP, the city began to give way to a more rural atmosphere with smatterings of light industrial centers.  Tall, straight palm trees; flat rice patties; dirty white cows in the fields and on the roadside.  Because of the intermittent torrents of rain, we didn’t really stop for photo opportunities.

The “Family Truckster”, Cambodia style!

A few hours into the journey, the driver required a stop to use the bangkon.  I know we call them restrooms in the U.S., but there was no resting in there!

As we continued west, the driver’s style went from casually aggressive to significant urgency.  We passed EVERYTHING!!!  Cars, trucks, and semi-tractor trailers carrying petroleum… we passed them all.  We passed them EVERYWHERE!!!  Up hills, hidden driveways, blind curves and oncoming traffic were no match for us.  As the weather worsened, you would have thought our force-field got stronger.  This quiet little gentleman was driving as though he could feel a serious case of the scoots coming on.  I do recall, out of instinct, asking Beth how far apart her contractions were. (insert video)  Thank goodness for proper working seat belts… umm, wait.

The weather cleared as we got closer to the coast.  The terrain began to extend upward as “smoke” covered mountains began to close in on the highway.  The traffic lessened and the scenery got more beautiful.

Our hotel, the Ren Resort, was located in the more secluded Otres 2 Beach resort area.  Secluded is an understatement.  To reach the many beautiful hotels at Otres 2 it was necessary to drive down the roughest, dirtiest road imaginable.  Weaving around the small ponds and craters in our path, we had finally reached our destination.  The Ren Resort well exceeded our expectations.  The beauty, the cleanliness, the hospitality; this place truly served as our oasis.

The small private beaches located on the seaside of each hotel were dotted with palm trees and beach lounge chairs.  The ocean?  Calm, clean, warm… inviting.

On the close of our first day, we reflect that this day may have been a lot about learning.  Who we are doesn’t always coincide with who we think we are or who we want to be.  Perhaps there are limits to what we consider as adventure?  Perhaps we bit off more than we WANT to chew?  I can’t honestly answer those questions at this point in the journey, but we certainly can enjoy pondering such things with cocktail in hand as the sun sets in the western sky over the Gulf of Thailand.