We said our farewells to Mary at the frog and started our long bus journey east. Constantly stopping whilst the minibus picked up more and more people. A rather large Belgian (Bert) at 6'7" boards and we eventually stop so our bags can be moved off the minibus. A moped and our bags get precariously strapped to the back whilst onlookers figure out the best way to attach them. Two more people are squeezed into the front seat and we drive to a market where water and other boxes are added to the full minibus. The further east we go the more forested it becomes but a lot of logging has been done and probably more to come. With 1 stop at a roadside villiage we get to Stung Treng next and glimpse our first sight of the mighty Mekong around 3pm. An impressive stretch of water and far less depressing than all the deforestation on route. The more we read and hear, Ban Luang will be dusty and dry. Part of the attraction would be to see waterfalls and lush rainforest but it's the wrong time of year. There is also the fear that hostels will close in the village town with the forthcoming New Year.
The decision is made to bale from the wilds of the east and as Bert is getting a connecting bus to Kratie (Krong Kratcheh) we decide to take our chances there. We speak to a local and barter for a seat. We get charged $10 and although steep we are unable to negotiate due to the holiday season. The guy we have bartered with is quite the comedian wondering if i am related to Mr Bean. This causes him much amusement. He disappears on a moped and we can only hope he returns. Apart from being a transfer location to Laos, not much in this town.
We get to know the man mountain Bert a bit better. With him being 6'7" and Craig 6'4" on a good day I'm starting to feel small! Bert is a 28 year old surgeon on his way from a hospital in Phnom Penh to Kratie. He is not even sure if the hospital is open as no one there speaks English or French. From his description it seems like there is more to do in Kratie and it is not so remote for connecting transport.
Bert informs us that 70% of doctors in the country are illegal and have learnt most of their trade from life experience, helping those hurt during the time of the Khmer Rouge. He had been working in Phnom Penh as part of his studies and is now going to help with surgery in Kratie. The KR destroyed so much during their reign of terror, believing the farmers and working class to be the true people. Anyone from the educated to the religious were killed including doctors, teachers and Buddhist monks. The monks they didn't execute either tried to escape to the jungles growing their hair long or joined mass suicides.
Outside of the human loss, they destroyed anything of educational significance from hospitals and schools to temples. Parts of Angkor were knocked down and you can only wonder what it looked like before.
30 minutes have passed and we wonder if the comedian will be back. Eventually he does return and tells us he will be back once more in 15 minutes. Starting to realise that in Cambodia double all times. We have already been on the road for 8 hours.
Once on the next minibus, Cambodian Billy Connelly tells us 3 hours to Kratie, so I look at my companions and a knowing smile passes between us. We have already doubled the time. 2 American girls are on the bus looking a little too comfy with feet stretched out compared to the 3 larger westerners squashed into row 2.
Their enthusiasm and booming voices are silenced when the bus stops and countless Cambodians squeeze on. All our bags get piled to the back and are used as seats. After the first sardine tin bus I now don't flinch. I smile slightly when I hear one of the girls worrying over her chopsticks being broken. With New year fast approaching the locals are racing home for the 3 days of celebrations. Squashed in the bus unable to move, the bus stops again and more pile on. It crosses my mind that maybe there is a portal to Narnia at the back that I have not been told about.
We arrive around 8pm and its dark by now. Has been a long day. Myself and the 2 giants part ways with the magic wardrobe on wheels and flag down a tuk tuk. I am perplexed as to how we all fitted on with bags included. Dropping Bert off at his hotel, we decide to go to a new hostel called the Silver Dolphin.
A family run place and they are all dozing, swinging on hammocks. A younger member rolls out and informs us that we can stay till new year but beyond that many hostels will be closed. Another minor headache to deal with, but we are shown to our room on the top floor next to a rooftop bar, close enough to pour my own pint if it had been open.
Maybe there are 2 hostels with this name as the rusted dolphin would be a more apt title. The room is very worn with a selection of insects crawling on the bed. Looks like Craig's type of meal and I suggest he begins on his entrée.
After checking the bathroom with roof not quite fitting and a cleanliness only a biologist would find interesting, mozzie nets are put up. No time to freshen up as the power cuts out with what appears to be a lightening storm on route.
We try to find a cafe in the dark with numerous cockroaches underfoot scurrying for cover.
Thankfully the power returns and we see a hostel with a cafe on the corner.
The menu appears to be mainly western and I order a pizza. Always feels like cheating when eating western food but not eaten much in last few days so with a cold Angkor it makes the journey worthwhile.
We see a sign with bus times so enquire with the friendly owner that they are running. Some hostels are also open over the holidays. Things are looking up and can possibly stay here at the Uhong Guesthouse.
Tired we head back to the rusted dolphin and after scraping off the remaining bugs on the bed, I get my silk sleeping bag liner out and relish in a bit of luxury.
When backpacking you cart all these bits and pieces for certain situations. Always nice to find they actually get used. Appreciate the little things.