Cam, Arun, Rory and I just lined up to high-five-goodbye Rich from his tuk-tuk as he sped off, our first brother down. We'd come back to Phnom Penh for three more nights, us lot heading north, Rich flying out. At this point we'd reached a place where our team was perfect, the nights out were getting incredible and the chat was consistently hilarious. The rest of the trip is well set up but this chapter is over.
Something like a week before Rory and I had been shooting some pool with a Canadian at a bar in Kampot, drinking those last unnecessary-mandatory beers before bed. The next day we hooked up with our tuk-tuk driver, Pun Luong, who whisked us 40 minutes out of the city to go and explore the local caves. We approached some sheer, grey limestone caves and were led around by a dozen or so kids, between 7 and 10 years old, who named Rory "Handsome Man", me "Spiderman", Cam "Special Man", Arun "King Kong", and Rich "Mr. Rich". After seeing a 1300 year-old shrine they pointed out a deep hole in the rocks that became pitch black. Two of the kids sprang through, Rory and I followed tentatively and we clambered our way through a cold, dark bat cave, back out to the light.
When we got back we played some basketball in the courtyard of our hotel. Even though the sun was setting we all sweated buckets and earned ourselves a good meal out that night of barbequed ribs, playing more cards, me accruing more baht-debt, everyone having a laugh. We'd been told of an even more sleepy town that Kampot and so, needing a couple more days relaxation after the hectic week before, we hopped on a bus the next day bound for Kep, an old French seaside resort with the best crab in Cambodia. Much of the town was wrecked by the Khmer Rouge and as we took a long walk up the road in the sweltering midday heat we passed strange shells of old colonial architecture in the foothills, now adorned with brand new, expensive villas and resorts. We happened upon a place that let us share some tents that were set up at the back of an incredible resort. The French owner, Jan, said we could have them cheap and enjoy the luxurious swimming pool and the sunset from the stilted restaurant. By night in Kep we ate like kings at the crab market, the crabs pulled straight out of the sea in baskets and served with Kampot pepper sauce. Rory and I again made sure the bar down the road stayed propped up and spent a few hours drinking tequilla on ice, chatting with the nightwatchman Oeung about mango trees. By day in Kep we sat reading and joking at the pool, sweating out our sins from the party times. We visited the crab market on the second day and watched the locals serving up fresh fish in the market, business slowly but constantly ticking from dawn until dusk.
And so it was back to Phnom Penh. We knew this town now. We knew that the nights would be heavy and the days short and blurry. But we didn't know it'd be quite as good as it has been. We checked in to Okay Guesthouse which has by far the best traveller vibe that any of us have found yet. The staff high-five us each time we walk in and the head-lady, Mum, appropriately treats all the boys like her sons. They know that in the day when we wake up we're still drunk, so they lay on a fantastic English breakfast and serve the coke ice cold. Our first night in the city was the same as last time, but started in a go-go bar called Bar Bados. As we entered it became apparent that we were the only guys in this little place, but it was already packed with pretty Cambodian girls who threw themselves all over each of us. We weren't buying, but they were happy to play pool and jenga with us so long as we drank. Drink we did.
We'd agreed that the next morning we'd all get up and ask Mum to put on the Hangover on in Okay's restaurant while we ate breakfast. It was entirely appropriate and put us all in good spirits for the next day/night. We managed to haul ourselves down to the Russian market across town, the cheapest place to buy anything you can imagine. Each of us went wandering and found our own treasures. We bartered our way to cheap shorts, gifts, pipes and cigarettes. I walked past the cloth market, with little old ladies surrounded by rainbows of coloured fabric, past the food market and the knock-off DVDs. Each little area had it's own sound, and i suddenly found myself surrounded by bike parts right at the back-corner of the place, a little radio rattling off the tin and wing-mirrors and nuts and bolts, like some bikes had been taken and stripped down to their barest insides for resale.
When we got back to the guesthouse the manager, Map, told us he was going drinking with us. He rounded up his tuk-tuk drivers and took us all down to a Cambodian music bar on the riverfront where we all sat and roared with laughter as the waiters constantly plied our little glasses with beer. Each refill caused a shout of "bottoms up!" from the tuk-tuk drivers. As the shrill Cambodian singer got louder and louder Arun shouted "I love this song!" and we all started clapping along. We ate fish and rice, getting more and more raucous over the next couple of hours, partying like the Cambodians do. Then it was time for Rich's last night out, a haze of a bar crawl, each place greeting us with a rush of girls and beer, us five laughing and slapping each other on the back, making the most of the best night out imaginable.
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