Cambodia uses two currencies interchangably - it's own riel and the US dollar - which means that working out whether you've been short-changed is a test of mental arithmetic. Oh, and they only accept US dollars that were made after 1980, which is a little bit picky in my opinion. It was another case of hoarding small bills and desperately trying to break the big ones the ATMs dished out. Tuk -tuk, one dollar. 25 bracelets, one dollar. Bottle of water, one dollar. Everywhere I went I was bombarded with people crowing "one dollaaaaarrr, one dollaaaaarrr".
Royal Palace, Phnom Penh |
I hooked up with 2 Brits, John and Craig, from the bus trip and we hit the town. Phnom Penh is small for a capital city, only two streets with any sort of action. Every bar had a pool table surrounded by girls in high heels and short dresses practicing their westerner-hunting skills. A really seedy atmosphere. We watched the Hungarian grand prix getting slowly merry on Angkor beer in the Phnom Penh Walkabout (yes, a Walkabout in Cambodia... but probably not an official one), which had the air of Gary Glitter's local. The only other people in there were middle-aged western men with their arms loosely around disinterested, young Cambodian girls. I got accosted on each trip to the loos - doing a Tycho Brahe would have been a less depressing alternative.
Victims of the regime |
Memorial Stupa, Killing Fields |
John and I went to Battambang the next day, Cambodia's second city in the northwest of the country, but nothing more than a high street. We took a daytrip into the countryside to visit Phnom Banan temple, the Killing Caves of Phnom Sampeau (not sure how many more 'Killing' places I can take) and did a Cambodian wine tasting session, throughout which the vineyard worker was preoccupied with poking a toad up the arse with a twig. Lesson of the day: Cambodian brandy is not special.
Killing Cave of Phnom Sampeau |
Phnom Banan temple |
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