Man-o-gram #25
‘You gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, know when to run’ … last night I walked away, this morn I ran.
They’re called speedboat ferries here, and when the skipper opened up the throttles, I thought, yep, time to go.
Some minor damage incurred by moi with the scooter hire yesterday, turned the hirer a bit sour. A small piece of plastic had broken off the bottom bash plate incurred on one of the tracks. Not unusal on Koh Rong with rocky tracks, most of the hire scooters have knocks and dings. Prob should have been more cautious, kinder to the scooter. But minor scrape, barely notice it, doesn’t affect it – says Baz.
“No no no” says hire man in increasing register. “You break my scooter” … I was about to offer him anything up to $50 to placate, these guys don’t earn much, but I stopped when his anger jumped from 1 to 10. In the 5 secs it took him to summons two of his offsiders, I’d walked off into the stream of people. He shouted expletives and followed shortly after but went down the wrong alleyway – I’d snuck into the guesthouse and he hadn’t picked it. Fckn hell, bit of drama.
I was due to leave the island today so left on early ferry to avoid him.
Shame. What freaked me was not so much the conflict, as realising I’m on my own and this can be the wild west, no police presence.
Doing a runner is not a very buddhist thing to do. Feel a bit shit about not getting him some dosh but I wasnt sure where it might end up. Skiddadle was wise. If I was travelling with a mate I wouldn’t be so concerned. Cheers Kenny Rogers 🤣🫣.
Next move on chessboard, finding the train to Kampot. Google maps indicated I needed to hang a left, and voila some rusty unused tracks – a good sign, so like a 1970’s album cover i continued my journey stepping over sleepers all the way to the station. In sandals carrying a ukelele. Rock star in Cambodia.
Train pulls into the station, she’s an old clanger, and the boys crawl under in the mud for some maintenance.
The poorest of people, their shanties and shelters, often flank the railway lines and today’s trip didn’t disappoint. The filthiest plastic-ee rubbish strewn packed-in-people squalor I’ve seen yet. I don’t go looking for this stuff but once seen you can’t un-see it. Revealing research. And loads of rice paddies buffalo and rural vista’s. Beauty and the beast all in one ride.
Meantime I’m feeling like Ronnie Biggs or Steve McQueen from The Great Escape.
The train ride itself was deafening, the driver blasting his super loud horn almost non-stop, mostly to announce the wonder of there even being a train – hence my earmuffs in foto(knew there was a reason i brought those). People in their shanty’s and farm bivouacs stopped to celebrate and wave at the wonder of, a train.
Last leg of the journey, Kampot to Kep, was at the pleasure of tuktuk driver Sopheak. He took me 28km for US$12.50, stopping in at his place to pick up his 4 yr old for daddy/daughter time, swimming lessons after dropping me, sweet.
We make it to Jungle House, there’s a serviceable guitar – yusss, first time I’ve had my hands on one in a mth, and the two girls who run the shop tell me the monkeys only come about three times a year, it’s seasonal, and they showed up yesterday. Thats my bungalow in pic, not entirely monkey proof.
Word is don’t leave your phone lying about, nicking those is their favourite trick. Joy, last digs it was a rat, this one it’s tree’s full of monkeys. 🐒🐒🐒
Till next time :)
