Travelled: December 19, 2015
The bus ride from Ho Chi Minh City to Phnom Penh was rather pleasant for a 7 hour bus ride with a barely reclining chair. I had a window seat and a woman who sat next to me for a mere hour. Other than that I was able to sprawl out a bit and get comfortable. Crossing the border was easy. Long Phuong bus took care of the Visa application form and pretty much everything except for the payment.

Border crossing from Vietnam to Cambodia.
It’s $35 USD for a 30 day single entry visa. I had $41 left from what the Vietcombank couldn’t convert for me back in July. There was a reason for that…it wasn’t accepted for my visa either due to one bill having writing on it and one with tape. Great. I ended up converting some money in line at the border, but not enough- leaving me with some USD and some Cambodian riels. The coordinator on our bus had the driver pull over for me so I could take out money from the ATM. (So for anyone traveling to Cambodia, make sure you have crisp, fresh from the bank USD upon arrival.)
After pulling over we stopped for food. I got a chicken curry, which was delicious until I found a full black feather stewed up with my meal. Getting back on the road, the bus arrived in Phnom Penh at 1:00pm. I took a tuk tuk to One Stop Hostel to check in and book my overnight bus to Siem Reap. With not enough time to do both the Killing Fields and Tuol Sleng Museum of Genocide, I prioritized and went with the Killing Fields. For $13, Sothea (so-tea-uh), my tuk tuk driver, drove me to the fields, about 40 minutes outside city center, and back.

The mausoleum built in memory of the victims during the Khmer Rouge Regime. Inside is stacked with ten shelves of human skulls, teeth and bones.
The gruesome stories and setting of the killing field was very eye opening to the brutality humans can obtain. Being only $6 admission, it included an audio tour that gave you an in depth history and stories of victims and survivors during the the Khmer Rouge Regime in 1975. I spent well over two hours walking through and listening. Sparing the bloody details, this brutal Cambodian genocide should be something you look up or go see one day if it interests you.
When I got back to the tuk tuk, Sothea pulled out pictures and told me about his own family and how they were prisoners. His father was killed at one of the other killing fields. At 10 years old, Sothea was beaten for playing. He shared his stories with such an open heart, as sadness waved through his voice and eyes. As we headed back to my hostel, we were caught in traffic jams amongst small, bumpy dirt roads full of people selling and buying things at the market.

Traffic jams in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.
As we were approaching closer to city center Sothea asked me if I wanted to join him for dinner at his house with his family. The sun was setting to a dim light and of course I was skeptical being a solo female traveler, but something in me felt safe and sure it was only a good intention, so, I said yes. We carried on our way to his family’s home, passing through a temple with practicing monks, to lead us outside his home where it was set up with tents, round tables with table covers, chairs with seat covers and sashes, and full of smiling people eating, drinking and laughing through conversation. It was a celebration of life for his grandmother. Being the only westerner, with my pale skin, green eyes and long blonde hair, I was of course looked at, but only with the kindest eyes and smiles. Those who spoke English greeted me with the warmest welcomes. I met Sothea’s beautiful wife and four daughters, one of which is also an English teacher.

Home cooked traditional Cambodian dinner, Babaw.
Each table had a large pot in the center full of home cooked Babaw, a rice and meat soup. This one was full of assorted mushrooms, shrimp, pork, chicken and green garnishes. It was incredible. Sothea served me a bowl with a glass of Fanta grape soda to go along with it. After demolishing (as politely as possible) my first bowl, he gave me a second portion before the end of my last bite. Dessert was jack fruit and sweetened crackers (I wouldn’t quite call them ‘cookies’). After eating I talked with his family for a bit before we headed back to my hostel.

Sothea and I at dinner.
Within hours I was transfixed at how cruel the world could be and how inviting, generous and kind humanity is capable of being. Driving through poverty where children are in rags of clothes (if in any clothes at all), playing in rubbles of dirt, trash and torn down cement buildings, they were playing with sticks, laughing, waving and appearing happy as could be. There is so much beauty and non-materialistic riches residing in Cambodia, it truly is amazing. I finished off the evening going to the night market with some people I met from my hostel before getting on the midnight sleeper bus to Siem Reap…
At the very back of the bus there were three conjoined beds with a low ceiling. One of my friends and I snagged that area for our slumber, claiming it as our fort for the night. Four of us crammed back there, with our heads at a 45 degree tilt (due to the low ceiling) or slouching back, to drink wine, talk and ultimately laugh until tears dripped down our cheeks. After killing two bottles of wine, we all separated to our designated bunkers to go to sleep. Laying down, looking out the window with head phones in, listening to whatever came on shuffle next, I couldn’t help but smile to myself for the sheer happiness I felt. The places we go… Here I was, travelling by a sleeper bus taking impressive curves through the mountains half way across the world, going to a place I had yet to see.
In the center was beeswax heated by coals. Each of us had a square of hand made hemp fabric. We used different tools, dipping it in the hot wax and tracing patterns on to the hemp. With the help of our lovely guide Sue and another woman, we created individualized cloths.
The cloths were to be left to soak for the extension of our stay at the Handicraft studio. In order to get a deep indigo color (kind of like a dark denim) fabric is left in for several days.

They cooked us dinner (all included in the cost). We sat at the long bench tables with the family communicating through minimal words, just smiles and motions. They noticed how we inhaled the spring rolls (typical) and filled our plate with more from theirs with nods and laughter. The husband poured us all multiple shots of rice wine, in which he calls”happy water.” All of us raised our shot glasses to the center, cheering in Vietnamese. After the delicious meal, we went back to the round table for more beer and to digest before going into the herbal medicine tea bath.
She pulled one of the letters out and had us read it to her and write a response.
And to take some obligatory pictures using none other than my shameless selfie stick. Along the way Sue picked us all flowers. At one point of rest, we sat on our bags looking out at the valley full of perfectly staggered rice fields. Sue pulled out more of her acquired letters and I had the pleasure of reading one to her. This one had enclosed money for Sue to give to a neighbor for mosquito nets for the children. Her kind words and charity warmed my heart by the genuine love strangers are capable of withholding.



















