Friday

Coming into the arrival area at the Phnom Penh airport I notice everyone pulling out their passport size photos. I knew I forgot
something! I maneuver myself to the front of the throng and learn that my absentmindedness will only cost me a dollar. Excellent. I end up getting into the slow immigration line though, so I don’t get an opportunity to spot a fellow sunuker with whom to share a taxi ride..

My favorite bike shop, Lucky’s, is closed. That means relying on my motodop to find a hotel. We visit a few that are full or too expensive before settling on a $15/night, air conditioned, fourth floor walk up with two single beds and a hot shower. It does not have a backpacker tourist feel about the place. I like it.

A two-block walk to California II and I’m having a can of Laos beer with the owner, Jim. He’s renovated the place a bit. It looks nice. I’ve not been able to get close to a computer so Jim tracks down my ol’ pal Soi Dog on the phone and we arrange to meet. Back at the hotel I shower and grab a moto.

Walkabout is crowded. Guys, beer glasses in hand, laugh and yell while the women fill the spaces between, mostly ignored. A dedicated group gathered around the pool table, intent on the game, disregards the throng. A few couples lean over the pseudo-balcony overlooking the bar, watching the action as they chat.

Friday night is always full of expats trying for the jackpot on Joker night. The pot’s somewhere around a hundred bucks. I scan the crowd looking for my buddy. Is that him? I see a big fellow belly up to the bar. “Hey, I’m looking for a guy named …” he breaks out in a big grin

“Ya made it!” He says with a laugh. We’ve not seen each other for two years so there’s some catching up to do. I follow his drink recommendations and then buy a chance on the jackpot. I’m introduced to a few of he local boys. One wants to talk philosophy, but he’s too beer sodden for coherence. Another tells me how fantastic life in Cambodia is for an educated professional.

“Avoid Lucky’s,” Soi Dog tells me when I explain my intention to rent a motorbike. The expats nod their heads in agreement. Tales about their experiences and Lucky’s business practices soon convince me to rent elsewhere.

Soi Dog suggests we go to Sharky’s for supper. Balanced on the back of his bike, we head out. I’m indifferent about Sharky’s. If you’re a regular, it’s probably terrific, but I’ve never found any girls there worthy of my attention. We eat and talk and I’m introduced to some more expats and listen in on the latest gossip.

Back near Walkabout, a young lady beckons me to her place of employ, 51 Bar. I do a double take because I recognize her. I’ve never met her before, but have seen her countenance on so many stone carvings in Angkor Wat, a living Apsara!

I sit with her and have a drink. We’re soon joined by a couple other girls. No lady drinks, just conversation. I manage to get the girls to sing some Khmer songs and even dance. I propose to the Apsara, but she insists she has to work until 3 AM. I get the impression she’s not exactly a working girl. I move on to Heart of Darkness.


Mmmm …

Heart is another Phnom Penh landmark. It’s probably the most tasteful of the adult venues, but like Sharky’s, does not appeal to me so much. Oddly enough, a couple guys at the bar call me over and shake my hand like I’m a long lost relative. “Join us for a drink!” one tells me. My scam radar is usually attuned to locals so I’m caught a bit off guard by this situation. I’ve been to Heart before, but never stayed longer than one drink and did not strike up a conversation with anyone but a few girls. Furthermore, the last time I was in the city was over two years ago. I decline the offer and meander along. Some time later, I learn that I look remarkably like an Australian who spends a lot of time in the city.

Although far from drunk, the rest of the night is a haze of memory. I pick up a good looking Viet pro to bring back to the hotel for a totally forgettable night. She is a “Big Mac Girl,” hyped up and yummy looking but leaves you strangely unsatisfied.

Saturday

Late the next morning I make my way to the motorbike shop. Angkhor motorcycles is right across the street from Heart of Darkness. They specialize in off-road bikes (off-road pretty much describes all of Cambodia, mind you). Their machine are very well maintained and the prices are reasonable (about ten clams a day).


That’s the shop on the left.

They have no scooters so I’m stuck with a Honda dirt bike tall enough to put me a head above the cyclo drivers.


I’d love to have one of these to drive around back home.

It takes me a little while to get used to it; I’ve only been on a big bike once before. I scoot around the town to get comfortable and set my bearings. Phnom Penh has been cleaned up a lot, too much, as far as I’m concerned. The rough and tumble look - OK, war-torn look - is gone. There are sparkling new buildings, covered in dust, everywhere. I’m nostalgic for my first trip nearly five years earlier.

With nowhere in particular to go in the evening, I remember the flier in my pocket. It’s for a new bar called Bogart and Bacall and has a two-for-one drink coupon. The girl who gave me the flier said it was near the French market. I find the address, but there’s no bar, just some typical Khmer resto-shops. “Bugger!” There is, however, an intriguing place on the corner called the Mikado club. “Hmmm?”

Some sort of Japanese-oriented bar? In Thailand, that’s usually not the sort of place I’d go - except to tease the girls. The doors are blacked out so you can’t see inside. That’s a good sign. Throwing caution to the wind, I step inside.

The Mikado entrance is on a corner, the interior runs back and to the left as you step inside. The place is actually nicely decorated by South East Asian bar standards. The mirror backed bar runs along the long side of the far wall, a dozen or so stools in front. In the middle are three or four tall club tables with a few stools around each of them. On the stools around the bar and the tables are a score of cuties. A single Barang (white foreigner) sits at the bar talking in low tones to a girl. Everyone turns to look at me.

“Gooooood evening,” I announce, “How’s everyone doing?” I grin and wait. Nothing happens. “Kinda quiet around here this evening, eh?” Not a peep from the girls, no welcoming gesture, no pushy mamasan. I wait another moment and consider that this really may be a Japanese bar. “Well, I guess I’d better get going!” I say and wave. Still no response from the girls who just sit on their stools – weird.

“Well, that was interesting.” Standing in front of Mikado I get one of those weird déjà vu feelings. “Why do I feel like I’ve been here before?” I look down the street and see a nondescript sign on a side street shop. “BINGO!”

Le Cyrcee is fairly well known to Phnom Penh visitors and I’ve experienced it once before with mixed results. Although I’m a bit tired and have a slight headache, I figure I’ll go in for a drink.

Inside the door I pass through a heavy dark curtain. The room is the length of a large suburban living room, but somewhat narrow. The bar runs along the left side, a set of high tables and stairs on the right. A stairway and bathroom occupies the far wall.

Cyrcee is everything Mikado isn’t. The moment I step inside, a dozen girls smile and welcome me in. I’m the only customer. I grab a seat at the bar, say hello to the owner and order a drink as a bevy of Viet babes surround me, vying for attention. Two girls massage my shoulders from behind, two girls squeeze into the seat to the right, another two to the left.

I barely get two sips out of my drink and they’re begging me to take one (or more) of them upstairs. “I’m just here for a drink, ladies,” I tell them. I really am tired but they don’t believe me. A few of them brazenly inspect the trouser trout and know better. I can not resist their charms; the libido overrides the superego.

With my arms around the girls on each knee, I can’t get at my drink. No problem, a third girl, standing between my legs, hoists my glass to my lips. OK, which girl shall I honor with a trip upstairs? I fall back on my ol’ assessment technique, the kissing contest. Each girl gives me their best kiss. The first round is a tie, naturally, so we need a second and third round. Man, you don’t get this sorta treatment back home!

I settle on a round face twenty year old cutie. With my drink in her hand, she guides me upstairs to a room with a nice big bed. The woman preparing the room scurries out as we enter. My girl strips down and I follow suit. “Shower?” I ask, looking around the room. She nods in perfect agreement and gestures upward.

“Come” she says and unabashedly steps into the hall, totally nude.

“When in Rome” I think to myself and follow. She takes my hand, leads me around the corner and up the stairs. A couple of girls are eating on the next floor. They smile and say hello as we walk past. It’s curiously arousing to be walking around bare-ass naked.

After getting cleaned up, we dry each other off and start back downstairs. My girl doesn’t bother covering herself with her towel. How delightful! On the bed we recommence necking.

There’s a problem. Despite my co-pilot’s best efforts, the landing gear won’t go down. My marine isn’t saluting the flag. My soufflé has fallen. The Stardust hotel has imploded. The butcher has only boneless pork. Elvis has left the building. In short, I’m suffering from A.D.D., Ascension Deficient Disorder.

There’ve been a few occurrences of sub-optimal performance in my recent past, but never out and out failure. Was I not feeling tired and worn out, I’d be in a state of total panic.

My girl doubles her efforts but I’m just not rising to the occasion. I tell her not to worry and have her give me a massage. She’s quite skillful. In an effort of turning around the situation, I inquire as to her long-time interests. She’s game but the fee is thirty dollars. I know I can do twenty elsewhere and let her know I’m no first time tourist. As we negotiate I learn that she will only stay for a few hours as her father expects her home in the early morning. Oh, well. She offers to go with me long-time on another night, however.

I call an early end to our session and we dress. For some reason, at the top of the stairs leading back to the bar, she gets panicky but can’t explain why. I get the impression she’s concerned that I’m going to complain about her performance! I assure her she was a most agreeable companion. I get her to relax and we go downstairs where I pay my bill and give her a few bucks.

At the hotel, the clerk eyes me curiously. “No lady?” he asks. I tell him I’m a bit tired. He suggests he can call a friend if I would like. A friend, eh? I ask him how much. Thirty bucks. Interesting, but I know I can do better. However, I really am tired and I’m not about to risk another performance malfunction. Time for sleep!

Sunday

Soi Dog convinces me to go on a major road trip with him and a few other expats. Throwing caution to the wind, I agree. We stop by Sharky’s in the evening and make plans with the more experienced bikers gathered there. Everyone has good ideas as to where we should go and which route we should take. I leave the deliberations to Soi Dog and wander around the bar until the logistics are settled.


The boys carefully study the map.

A bunch of guys decide it’s time to go to Martini’s. I follow the other bikers. We’re going the wrong direction! No, I’m wrong; Martini’s has moved yet again. Parking the bikes, we give the security guard a few Kip to keep an eye on the machines. The expats all know him, they’re regulars.

The new Martini is much nicer than the one which I remember. Just inside the entrance is a big roomy outdoor area screening a movie. The girls’ attentions are riveted to the projection screen. They’re showing Apocalypto. I keep my back to the screen as I’ve not yet seen the film and don’t want to spoil it. A spat sound elicits an “Ugh!” sounds from the girls.

As my companions renew acquaintances, I make my way past the bar and into the disco. Although the music inside is loud, the sounds barely make it back to the central area. Inside is blackness and lights. The dance floor is a comfortably small size, ringed with a sort of stand-up bar table arrangement built against the upright support columns. I take a stool behind this bar and watch the girls on the dance floor. There are quite a few guys here, but the girls outnumber them three to one.

The far end of the dance floor has a six inch riser that makes a bit of a stage. The better looking girls exhibit themselves here. I chat with a girl wearing a horrible toque hat. What’s with girls in Cambodia an ugly hats? I dance with her for a bit but there’s no chemistry. I make my way back to the open area.

I hang out with the boys for a while, but there’s really very little of interest to me here. Mind you, it’s still a bit early, but I’m not keen to wait around. I bid my companions a good evening and make my way to a location I scouted earlier that day.

That afternoon I barely recognized the tenements where I met Tow two years earlier. In front of the apartment complex there used to be a triangular vacant lot serving as a perfect landmark. It’s now a block of new cement row houses and shops, a manufactured, mass produced, oatmeal flavored, generic eyesore – but that’s how progress is measured in Cambodia.

It takes a few minutes to find the entrance I want. Parking the bike, I make my way inside. The proprietor greets me and three girls soon appear from outside. I introduce myself. One girl has a delightfully round face with mischievous eyes and a beautifully dimpled smile. She speaks some English! I haggle with papasan. He’s not keen on letting her go for less than thirty, but I manage to get him down to the standard twenty bucks.

I tell Mita to get changed. Although she has fabulous legs, her short skirt was not quite appropriate – particularly for riding on the back of my bike. She returns with jean shorts and we get on my bike.

We ride to the riverfront at the site of the curious carnival continually in progress. I’ve always wanted to eat at one of the picnic spots there, relaxing in a hammock suspended from tent poles holding up the tarpaulin roof. She’s not interested in going there, however. As we drive past a clothing kiosk, she asks me to stop. She wants to look at jeans. I leave her to shop and visit the photography shop next door.

Mita soon joins me and we watch a family getting a group photo. Mita is excited by the props and backdrops inside the studio. One is a swing with a forest backdrop. She speaks to the proprietor, puts a floral wreath on her head and sits on the swing with an enormous smile.. The photographer takes her picture. I gesture to him that I want to shoot the same shot with my digital and he obligingly steps aside.

As I fish in my pocket for my wallet, I notice Mita paying the photographer. Hmm, she might be a keeper.

As we ride off, I ask Mita where she wants to eat. Through a series of misguided directions she gets us to some street vendor restaurants beside the public market. I’ve already eaten so I watch as she prepares and eats some sort of soupy stew.

Back at the hotel, the night desk guy gives me a knowing smile as we ascend the steps. In the room, Mita starts rooting through my stuff. I don’t know if she’s looking for loot or evidence, but after asking me about a few items, she’s satisfied with her investigations.

I pull out my camera and tell her to pose. She immediately drops into an exaggerated fashion model persona. Amazing! She fell into character easily and gives me all sorts of poses, both fun and sexy (sexy doesn’t really suit her as she’s far too cute). After her performance at the photo salon, I should not have been surprised, but I was.

Speaking of surprises, Mita, although rather inexperienced, proves to be a most agreeable nighttime companion. Although not much of a kisser, she’s very accommodating in other areas. This night is a definite improvement over the past two days.

thanks for sharing your taughts about Cambodia.
glad you had fun.

I always visit californiaII when in PP, on my last trip i didn`t give myself time to have a beer there, but on one perticular day i ran into his bar to buy some T shirts, i bought four, and said hello to jim, as i was about to leave, he called me back and gave me a couple of post cards.

Next time you're there, ask Jim to show you his collection of advertisements for California II. He does a new one every month for the various tourist publications. It's fun to see how they change over the months and years.

OK wombat88 i will. he`s got great photographs as well.

Nice report Wombat. I don't know if you've been to Sophie's. It's the same idea as Cyceree but they have their own version of the kissing contest to help you choose your lady.

Nice post, Wombat. Glad to see you're still making the most of life!
Bwana

Part 2: North East Road Trip

I left the curtain open the night before so sunrise wakens me. I’m in too much of a rush for morning nookie. I try to explain to Mita that I’m on my way to explore her country, but my poor pronunciation of the towns and provinces baffle her. I take Mita back to the tenements and rush to the market to pick up my supplies. An hour later, Soi Dog is leading the way north along the river.

The first night we end up in a small river town. Our initial investigation into the location of the local brothel turns up nothing. We end up going to a local party hosted by one of the government officials. The two of us are roped into joining the group as they do the Khmer folk circle dance in front of the band. Soi Dog tells me he knows why we didn’t see the brothel during our tour. “All the girls are here!” he says. He figures the town leader brought the girls out of the brothels so the men at the party would have someone to dance with!


The crowd goes wild as the band, brought from Phenom Penh specially for this party, struts their stuff


A scarymobile makes its way through the dusty street


TV antennas spring from houses that don’t even have electricity.


What happens if you don’t look after your boat

Over the next couple of days we slowly make our way north through Kampong Cham and Kratie to Strung Treng. Here Soi Dog introduces me to some very peculiar individuals. One fellow, whom I’ll refer to as George, reminds me of some characters from “Apocalypse Now.” Remember the guys surfing during a Vietnamese mortar attack? Well, image how those guys would turn out thirty some years later. That’s George, our wild-eyed wiry host in Strung Treng.


Along the river at Strung Treng

George has spent a lot of time here. He doesn’t technically live in Strung Treng, but he may as well. He takes us out to a local restaurant then we tour the local brothels.

The first place has only a couple of girls, including one real looker. George stakes his claim on this girl and goes to talk to mamasan. Meanwhile, Mort, one of the other guys, takes the girl by the hand and leads her off to one of the cabins! George turns around and sees Mort closing the door. “What are ya doin’?!” he complains. Mort shrugs his shoulders and makes a lame excuse before closing the door. George mumbles a complaint but, being a good natured fellow, brushes it off. The rest of us accuse Mort of being a line jumper and agree we should go to the next brothel.

“Don’t leave without me!” Mort shouts from inside the bedroom, having overheard our deliberations. When we tell him we don’t feel like waiting around he shouts back “I’ll only be a couple of minutes!” I can’t believe the guys agree to wait for the lousy claim jumper.

I’m too tired from spending countless hours on the bike to be very adventurous. I’m tempted to take a girl back to the hotel for a morning shag, but find nothing to my liking. Back at the hotel I’m glad I’m not with a companion. The lobby of the hotel is packed with a dozen young backpacker babes. I’m a fairly audacious guy, but I’m still uncomfortable walking into that sort of situation with a cutie in tow. I flirt with the Israeli babes and turn in.

We spend the next few days in Banlung, Rattanakiri province. Soi Dog knows this area well and leads me on a merry tour of the brothels. The big difference between brothels out here (as opposed to what I’m used to) is that they all close around ten or eleven at night! It makes sense since they cater to a local population that rises before the dawn.

Soi Dog points out the shops as we drive through the back streets. They discretely display red lights. Nearly all are Khmer, but there are some Vietnamese. I can’t tell the difference, but he can. We identify nearly a dozen of them driving through the inky black night.

One evening we decide to visit the most promising brothel in town. We arrive to find no girls. Well, actually they were in and out of room near the front. We hear loud Khmer music. “What’s going on?” we ask in unison. Meandering over to the room, we peak inside. It’s packed with guys and girls, sitting on rudimentary furniture, singing along to the TV.

We recognize Luther, one of the guys we met the previous day, and laugh. Then we spot what he’s sitting next to. We look at each other in bafflement and look back into the room. Soi Dog shrugs, steps inside and squeezes onto a couch made from the back seat of a Toyota. I follow and take a squat stool by the door.

Luther is sitting next to a reasonably young, rather cute, Irish lass. Over the din of the music, I get the story third-hand from Soi Dog. Her motodop guide had taken her around to the various sites during the day. She asked him to take her to “somewhere fun” for the evening. Motodop knows of only one sort of evening entertainment as there are no proper bars in Banlung. He called a few of his buddies and took Ireland to a karaoke joint that just so happened to also be a knocking shop.

Ireland asks Soi Dog what he’s doing here. “What do you think?” He asks with a laugh. She looks confused. “This is a brothel!” he says with a shit eating grin.

To her credit, she did not blanch at this news but blinked a couple of times and said “Oh!” Luther, meanwhile was looking uncomfortable. He later tells us that he met her as she was arriving at the brothel and she assumed he was there for the same reason she was. Luther didn’t let on to the truth.

Over a couple of days we had the opportunity to check out quite a few of the brothels. Some tried to rip us off with inflated rates, but we were generally treated to five dollar sessions on bamboo beds. None of them, I felt, were particularly memorable. Banglung is not exactly a sanuking destination.


But if you like waterfalls, this is the place for you!


Riding through ancient rubber tree plantations, hill tribe people watch us with suspicion


A dusty village in the middle of nowhere


Abandoned concrete house on the edge of town


An old school shows signs of Khmer Rouge inhabitation


Continuing legacy of the Khmer Rouge

Pretty interesting stuff Wombat! Good photos too. It sounds like a fun thing to do if you're willing to make mongering secondary.

Part 3: Temple Time

I leave Soi Dog to continue his personal explorations in the North East and ride back to Phenom Penh. Just for the record, riding a bike on Cambodian back roads at night borders on suicidal. I can't tell you how many times I nearly rear-ended a bike or cart or unlit motorcycle on the road. I wisely pulled off and spend the night in a $5 flop house.

My first night back in Phenom Penh, there’s no doubt about my choice for female companionship, Mita. To make sure she didn’t go anywhere, I stopped by earlier in the day to let her know I’d pick her up that evening.

In my hotel, Mita sees the mess I’ve made having dumped my stuff all over the floor, bed and chairs. She starts clucking and organizing my belongings. Afterward we shower and hit the sack for a night of much needed redress.

Side trip to Siem Reap

I love Angkor, so there’s no way I can go to Cambodia without visiting the ancient temples. I book a Siem Reap hotel through my Phenom Penh hotel. When I arrive, I spot a young fellow holding a card with my name. I can’t imagine why I’m expecting a car, but the fellow is on a scooter. Oh, well.

“You have hotel?” he asks as I climb on back. Huh? I tell him that he’s supposed to take me to the hotel I booked. It appears my Phenom Penh pal procured me a driver, not a hotel. Oh, well.

I tell Motodop I want a Khmer hotel. He takes me to a place near the river. There’s only one room left and the proprietor is willing to give it to me for a discount, $25/night. It’s a nice guest house, but … As I leave, two yuppie couples stroll in, decked out in tennis shirts, long shorts and floppy hats. Riiiiiight. Nice save calling it quits on this place.

His second choice, after telling him again I want a Khmer hotel, is a place down a dusty side street. With lots of dark wooden furniture, it looks promising. The rooms look good, simple, clean, I like it. As I’m about to complete the form, I start to pay more attention to the rather loud music. It’s hip hop – bad hip hop (is there any other kind?). As if on cue, a handful of unwashed hippy-types shuffle in. Great, I’m in backpacker paradise.

No longer open to motordop’s suggestion, I direct him where to go. He wants to stop at a few places along the way, but I insist he drive on. We pull up to the hotel I used on my previous stay. It turns out that the woman at the desk is my driver’s aunt. “Why the hell didn’t you take me here first?” I ask him. He just shrugs his shoulders and grins. Sheesh.

My days are spent temple tramping and my nights checking out the Apsara dancing shows.


Stunning performer


Apsaras at the Kulen II restaurant


Apsaras at the Raffles Grand Hotel d'Angkor


Beautiful Raffles Apsara


Gorgeous “Hill Tribe bride” at the Cambodian Culture Village

My first day in the park I catch a ride with an Argentine couple. On the way out of the park, they stop at one of the numerous tourist traps. The driver knows he’ll get a cut of whatever they buy, so he picks one of the expensive shops. I spend the time hitting on a cute shop girl. As we leave, the couple asks me if I got anything. “A phone number,” I answer with a big grin.

Two nights later I set up a “date” with Rashana the shop girl, telling her I want to hear some music and have a drink. She asks if she can bring her friend Deena. “The more, the merrier” I reply. We meet at my hotel and head down to the old market area. This is a great place to wander around and has some great food entertainment areas. We have a drink and a couple of appetizers.

The restaurant the girls select has a Thai band playing various up-beat easy listening songs. “Anywhere else to go where we can hear Khmer music?” I ask. They make a few phone calls and suggest a dance club where some of their friends are. “Sounds good, let’s go!”

A few minutes later we’re parking our bikes in front of a club I’d spotted the previous evening. The place is jammed with Khmers and a small number of Barangs. The girls finagle a corner couch in the back and order drinks. We’re soon joined by a few of her friends, making three couples altogether.

The music is not exactly what I want, but they assure me the club will drop the standard house music for Khmer dance music. Half a drink later, the music changes. I try to get Rashana on the dance floor, but it’s too damn crowded. Deena deals with the overcrowded dance floor by dancing at our table.

Deena starts dancing just using her hands. I’ve seen girls dance like this before, usually in Thailand, but Deena is phenomenal! Her hands move every which direction, but with ballerina discipline combined with hip-hop intensity. I was not particularly attracted to Deena when I met her, but all of a sudden I find her very appealing. The power of dance. Wow.

Warmed up and egged on by the group of us, Deena really starts to let loose. She’s moving like a wild thing, still maintaining the Khmer hand gestures. The group at the next table are clapping and cheering.


Go, Deena, go!

I’m not really connecting with Rashana. Of course after watching Deena, I’m frankly not that interested in Rashana anyway. I’m tempted to swing some sort of dump and jump, but doubt I can pull it off. I decide to call it a night.

I’d checked out a few brothels on the west side of town, but on my final night in Seim Reep, I visit a brothel in the east side. A dozen girls sit in chairs against the wall and try to figure me out. The best looking of the bunch gives me a big smile and bounds out of her seat when I point to her. I was quite expecting a begrudge and a slouch, but she was genuinely pleased that I selected her.

Her room was filled by a thin mattress on the cement floor with just enough room to take off my shoes. We disrobe, wrap ourselves in towels and head down the hall to get cleaned up in the splash room (not exactly a shower). Back in the room, the fun begins. My girl is active and energetic. Unfortunately, the room is soon a sauna and I’m exhausted. I have to take this girl back to my hotel!

After getting cleaned up, I begin negotiations with papasan. I get him down to twenty-five bucks. Back in my hotel room, air-conditioning at full blast, I finish what I started earlier. My girl is pleased to experience a real shower and to sleep in a real bed.

Photo: East Side 01
My lovely companion for the evening

Photo: East Side 02
Ah, if only she spoke English

In the morning we wake at the sound of the roosters, fool around a bit and get dressed. I’d wanted to hang around with her for the morning, but she insisted, using gestures, that she had to return. Oh well. I diver he back to the brothel. Everyone is sound asleep, but one of the other girls joins us for a few minutes before I make my leave.


The exterior of a typical Siem Reap brothel

I must leave also. I pack up and start riding back to the capital. I know I won’t make it in one day, given my late start, so I take my time and check out a few ruins along the way.


An overgrown ruin well off the beaten tourist path


The highway out of Siem Reap runs on the ancient Khmer road. Until recently, traffic rolled over thousand year old bridges.

I stop for an overnight in Kampong Cham. I know there are brothels in the town, but I’m too damn tired to investigate.

Here's "Dancin' Deena":

I appreciate the time you put into writing these reports. Cambodia is definitely for the adventure hearted. Not exactly where you would go for mongering convenience. Everyone should go once. It's a real eye opener.

Actually, Cambodia really has something for everyone (everyone who reads this site, anyway). If we use Pattaya as the gold standard for sanuking destinations, I reckon Phenom Penh to follow closely behind Rio (which, based on my research, is not far behind Angles City). I'm almost willing to let Phenom Penh tie with Amsterdam due to the significant price differences.

With Thailand and Holland, you can generally get by without a guide. You really need someone to show you the ropes in Phenom Penh (as with many other mongering destinations).

Once out of the capital, it's a very different situation, of course. The crude brothels of rural Cambodia (i.e. everywhere that's not the capital!) are very much like the crude brothels of rural Thailand. It just so happens that there are so many run down areas in Cambodia.

Part 4: Final Days in Phenom Penh

Soi Dog returns to town and insists on showing me some of the other night spots of the capital. Over the next few days he introduces me to the bars near the park on street 108 and a few others places (e.g. Freebird) that I would not have found on my own. Having a guide, live or written, is really important when exploring Cambodia.

One evening one of the guys wants to check out Mikado. I roll my eyes, having no interest in going back there. They insist and I tag along. We walk into a very different Mikado than the one I visited a couple weeks earlier. There are a few guys here this time, but more importantly, the women are lively and responsive.

We grab stools at one of the tables and order drinks. We’re literally mobbed by the girls. “What the hell?” I ask. I tell the guys of my previous experience; they simply shrug.

One of the girls is paying special attention to me. She’s quite cute and has a very pleasant feel about her. Unfortunately, she speaks only a few words of English. As we head out, I tell her I might be back later.

Seeing as how it’s just across the street, we wander over to Le Cyrcee. Unfortunately, I am unable to identify my companion from my previous trip. It would have been nice to finish what I started with her a few weeks ago. We have a drink and carry on our tour of the city.

After visiting a few more places, I decide to return to Mikado. The girl I met was most affectionate and I felt she’d be an excellent bed mate. I walk in and a few girls recognize me from before. They call to my girl and she runs over and hugs me. I tell her to get dressed and pay the bar fine.

My feeling is right. She is a most affectionate bed mate, but not a bath mate at all! She steadfastly refuses to go into the shower with me, even the next morning after two sessions of shagging. Weird.

The next night, I try unsuccessfully to find Mita. Not really up to a major boning, I decide to go back to Mikato. My girl is very pleased to see me and we spend another night, arms and legs entwined (but still no shower time).

Photo: Mikado Girl
Mikado girl, fresh from the shower.

I catch up with Mita the next night. My hotel is now full of western tourists, so I ‘m a bit uncomfortable about brining her back to my room. Ah, but I have a devious plan. I’ll send her upstairs to the room while I lock up the bike. If the lobby is full of barangs, big deal! Heh, heh, heh. I’m soooo fucking clever.

I send Mita inside with my key, telling her I’ll be up in a minute. I lock the bike, pick up my laundry next door and walk inside. As I expect, a lobby full of barangs – and Mita laughing and giggling, standing at the pool table waving to me. “The best laid plans …” I think to myself.

I attempt to teach Mita how to play pool. My greatest accomplishment is convincing her to hit the ball with the pointy end of the cue instead of the larger handle end. We ignore the various tourists arriving and departing.

I get her up to the room without being caught, but the next morning, as the two of us descend the stairs, we’re busted by two couples and a family on their way up. Oh well.

During my final days, the hotel figured they made enough from me to afford to paint the place. It’s not like I was spending a lot of money there, it’s just that getting manual labor performed is so inexpensive. One reason for this is that there’re no bothersome standards and restriction for such trivial things as health and safety.


The “ladder” is built of rebar and suspended form the top of the building! The guys wear safety harnesses but only one of them is using it. Note that if one of the ladders break, the safety harness serves no purpose at all!


Babes on bikes.

I manage to see Mikato girl one more time before my departure and am rewarded with a mutual shower. I hope the next bastard who takes her out appreciates the time and effort I put into training this girl. I also manage to spend the night with sweet Viet from one of the 108 street bars. My final night in Phenom Penh I spend with the delightful Mita.

One last look at the city as I head out.

Part 5: The Train to Batambang has Departed

My original plan was to make my way south and travel along the coast to Pattaya. That would give ample opportunity to revisit the dirty little brothels near the port in Sihanoukville. It would also give me an opportunity to see exactly how awful the rail service is as I’d rather go by train than tourist bus. Unfortunately, I follow the advice of too many people and elect to go to Batambang. I figure I’ll at least see Poipet.

I arrive at dusk, dump my gear at a tourist hotel and take a walk through the town. I join some Polish backpackers for a meal at a popular restaurant. They assure me there’s not much to see here. I walk back to the hotel in darkness. Batambang is a backwater dustbowl that might have been interesting decades before, but any town that’s plunged into darkness at 10:00 PM is not what I’d describe as lively. I’m quite sure there are brothels in the area, but without a motorbike (you can’t rent them in Batambang), I’m not willing to pay premium prices for a motordop. Besides, I’ll be sanuking heaven in another couple of days; there’s no rush.

I try to get the hell out of town the next afternoon. Unfortunately, the buses all leave in the morning. I’m offered expensive taxi rides to Poipet, but decline. Instead, I make arrangements to try an alternative crossing, Pailin, but I can’t get out until the next morning. One more frickin’ night in darkness.

In my wanderings, I discover the old railroad station. I’ve heard that there are occasional trains – and there are plenty of antique cars on the sidings to support this claim – but no engines to be seen.


If there’s any doubt as to why there’s no regular train service to this part of the world, one look at this track tells the story.

I head down a few side streets in hopes of stumbling upon an “entertainment” venue. I find one, but it’s a restaurant beer garden with live entertainment. The place looks as if it could easily hold well over a hundred people. I’m not particularly hungry, but order a small dish intending to satisfy my cultural needs of listening to Khmer music. Five singers take turns on stage, accompanied by a talented keyboardist. After each performance, there’s a rousing applause from the audience – which consists solely of me. I told you this was a dull town.


One of the rare duets performed by the singers.

I meet up with a retired couple who have hired the back seat of a car for the trip to Pailin. The three of us sit fairly comfortably in the back of the small car while four Khmers squeeze into the front. My plan is to go from the Pailin crossing to Chanta Buri by bus; but plans have a way of changing!

At the border I meet up with a couple of older Brits on a visa run. “We’re going back to Pattaya, do you want a ride?” Oh, boy, do I! A few hours later, I’m thankfully entwined in the arms of a Thai babe. Died and gone to heaven!


Where we go when we live.

Love these photos, thanks for showing us another side of Cambodia. I guess I need therapy because I have always fantasized about fucking a Khmer girl with her full Aspara outfit on. Would have to be doggie style and no panties..wouldn't want to get speared by the headgear.

Heh, heh, heh, that's my very same fantasy. Of course, I've added the fact that it takes place with least one or two other Apsaras and it all happens in a torch-lit inner sanctum of Angkor Wat.

You realize, of course, that the original Apsaras all performed topless, right? Oh, how I wish one of the dance troupes would take a more traditional approach to their heritage. <sigh>

Hi Wombat,

Great report!

I would love to meet the girl on the back of the motorbike. She is beautiful.

When I was in old PP a few years they were every where.

Thanks for the great job.

bedouin

Wombat88
A truly enjoyable report. I have Zero desire to visit Cambodia for hobbying purposes but have always waanted to visit Angkor Wat and experience the country itself. I almost feel as if I have after reading your trip report.

Thoroughly enjoyed the pictures of Cambodian countryside and other non-hobby pics.

If I ever were to go to Cambodia it sounds like Soi Dog would be the guy I would want to be hanging with.

Thanks again for a refreshingly different report.

For a guy who spends so much time in that part of the world, I'm really surprised you haven't made it to Angkor yet, Khun mor. You must go, and soon! The place is starting to become overrun with tourists and I fear that many restrictions to exploration will soon be in place.

This holds true

Very informative , and interesting , thank you much wombat for a great report!