Kampot

Hired a bike. problem with such amazing scenery is that you can easily get disorientated and end up in Vietnam.

Weird that the more appeal somewhere has, as a tourist anyway, the fewer tourists there are. Sihounkvile was a shit hole. Lots of places to drink yes but not much else. Kampot was built around an estuary. Watch the fishing boats going out and in. Walking amongst the rice fields watching people go about their business. A lot the farming still used old techniques. Water buffalo doing the bulk of the work, lots of hands doing the rest. Not much machinery to be seen.

Kep was nicer than Kampot still, Mountains and rice fields to one side, the ocean and crab markets on the other. Had a name for itself with pepper. Was a time that any French restaurant worth it salt would have pepper from Cambodia. War and the Khmer Rouge putting a stop to that. Making something of a comeback apparently. Either way the salt and pepper crab was pretty nice.  Tried to find a few caves, the maps were hand drawn, not all that complete so I had to rely on asking to find my way. Large limestone outcrops were my guide. The caves were nothing special, a few had Buddhist shrines, most had the rubbish of human habitation. Nice ride through the rice fields to find them in any case.

Spent some of my time in a 'bar' across the road from the guest house. Local kid had spent a bit of money setting up a shack and a few Americans who had been their a few months took him under there wing, trying to teach something in the ways of running a bar. Unfortunately I think that if tourists didn't see other tourists drinking there they would keep walking. Comfort in familiarity I guess.

Got invited along to a show one of the local NGO's was putting on, teaching deaf teenagers to break dance. The obvious hindrance to their success wasn't so obvious. Lots of bass on wooden floor boards I guess. It was on, some poor kids got served. Interesting way to spend the afternoon.

Wonder if their was sort of ideological war between some of the volunteers and expats running bars, seemed to be  a lot of signs on doors saying missionaries not welcome. Thinking about it, a lot of the expats running bars were dicks.