The persistent downpour made it impossible to return to the centre and I wondered whether I might end up spending the night a free prisoner at Tuol Sleng. I was about to ask the remaining staff if they had any spare blankets when suddenly the crashing sound of the beating rain subsided, and, just as rapidly, the furious downpour diminished to a harmless trickle. Seizing the moment, the few people caught inside made their way out as fast as they could.
The instant the rain stopped completely, Psar O Russei bustled with activity, jolting right back into life. From behind dented blackened steaming pots, a number of street food vendors deftly served up the eager hungry flocks. Animated shop owners swept out water that flowed in their outlets with shabby oversized brooms. Loudspeakers as huge as wardrobes were being hauled back out on the pavement by retailers of audio and video equipment, the ear-splitting sounds transforming some streets around Psar O Russei into a cacophonous open-air disco. Leaping over residual puddles of water and dodging getting splashed by the on-rushing traffic became almost a kind of sport.
But there were enough signs to suggest that this was the calm before another storm. No sooner than I had come out of the internet café that the gunfire sound of the downpour bore all the traits of a monsoon rain, fast, furious and raging solidly on. The movement around Psar O Russei recoiled just as rapidly as it had earlier burst into life. Few people braved this rain that seemed to pour down with an even greater force than the afternoon’s deluge. Those who for some reason or other braved the rain buzzed around on motorbikes like a scattered swarm of angry wasps. Retreating back to my homely room at The Capitol was the right thing to do.
Knowing I had to rise very early in the morning put me in an anxious state however. I was fretting I might oversleep and for this reason I left a note with the reception to give me a knock on the door just in case. Catching a few hours sleep, I was already on my feet some time before the clerk knocked on my door. Scheduled to leave at six, the bus did not depart until almost half an hour later. The delay did not bother me. This was one journey I could not afford to miss. My dwindling cash flow required I return back to Bangkok right away.
Contrary to what I feared, the journey back to the border was nowhere near as rough as the first time round. Passing by the outer reaches of the Tonle’ Sap lake, the bus snaked upwards through the charming riverside town of Battambang. Raining now and again, it was a problem-free trip until we arrived to within a short distance from the border. At that time, the road was rendered impassable by the heavy rainfall and we were forced to a halt in a town half an hour or so from the border. As it happened, the same situation produced two different outcomes. On one side of the road, a bunch of travellers stared blankly cursing their luck, and on the other, local children splashed about in the murky puddles without a care in the world.
Some time later, a message came through giving the driver the green light to resume the trip to Poipet. Revving up the engine, everyone flew back on board and the bus departed at once. Before we knew it we reached the border and prepared ourselves for the formalities of crossing from one frontier to the other. But a combination of rain, mud and hordes of people crossing borders slowed the whole process down. Having made it this far however, it wasn’t going to be especially demanding to bear it for just a little longer.
Reaching Bangkok involved approximately another five hours of travel. The better roads however made the second part of the journey fairly easy-going. Reclining back in my seat, I was swept away by a mixed bag of thoughts and feelings about Cambodia. Surely the highlight had to be the amazing sights of the Angkor temples. Yet the perfect tonic was provided by the cool refreshing shores of Sihanoukville. Choeung Ek and Tuol Sleng may not have been pleasing attractions, but in their own right they existed to teach important lessons. And in between there are the people, who come what may, are almost certainly ready to greet you with a smile. Like everything else, nothing is perfect and beneath the shiny surface there’s also a lacklustre part. But, when all is said and done, this land and its people deserve their fair share of respect. They certainly have mine.
By chance, I got talking to an Australian woman who had just completed a year and a half of voluntary work in Phnom Penh. Visited by her mother on a couple of occasions, they were now travelling together for a short while before going back to Australia. Managing mission projects and teaching English to disadvantaged children in Phnom Penh, at a young age herself, this woman had already achieved what some of us dream of doing. Tall, smiling eyes, pretty with the potential of gracing a catwalk, instead she wore cargo pants, a track suit top and a friendly unassuming persona.
Much to my relief we arrived in Bangkok in good time and shape, the money I had left sufficient to see me through. Glad to see the staff again, I booked a room at the Rainbow Guesthouse and reclaimed my belongings. Reaching Bangkok in a way spelt the end of my short break in Thailand and Cambodia. And while there were other endeavours to look forward to in Australia, I felt sad my time here was almost up.
Only a couple hours away from Bangkok, Kanchanaburi and Ayutthaya are two charming towns where I could have spent a night, even two, as a diversion from the capital’s urban sprawl. Action-packed and offering a plethora of sights, I decided to spend the last four days in Bangkok. Not in the frame of mind to charge about, I preferred to snoop casually around markets, the Chinese district, Wat Pho, the Grand Palace among a few other sites. Background to the opening scene of The Beach, the gigantic reclining Buddha statue can be found in the largest and oldest Buddhist temple in Bangkok, Wat Pho. An eminent and venerated shrine, Wat Pho is also the Kingdom’s most prestigious institution in the field of learning Thai massage.
Extending upwards from royal buildings below, ornate conical spires add that final lavish touch to the splendour of the Grand Palace. A sentinel on the banks of the lively Chao Phraya River, the Palace’s grounds include Wat Phra Kaew, the temple home of the legendary statue of the Emerald Buddha. Immaculately preserved, the former royal residence is nowadays assigned with more of a ceremonial role. Wandering between twinkling edifices and temples rising high above paved paths with neatly trimmed shrubs on the side, felt like walking right into an enchanting fairytale. Such is the charm of this palace that was it not for the constant snapping of pictures I would have remained drifting in my daydream until closing time.
Venturing to Khao San Road only to stock up on snacks and drinks, it was an escapade in itself getting lost around the maze of backstreets and alleys of Banglamphu. Running down the clock until the day to leave for Sydney, stumbling upon a new eatery was like stumbling upon one of the district’s best kept secrets. And this district is full of great little hideaway secrets waiting to be unearthed. But all good things come to an end, my Indiana Jones moments, beach-bum moments and city dweller moments were finally over. Coming around in full circle, this was the end of the banana-pancake trail. Time again to fly to the unknown…..
