"The Road through Cambodia" or "A Brief Introduction to Cambodia"

The road from the Thai border to Siem Reap is red dirt, and if you're going 180 kilometers, it may take 6 1/2- 7 hours in a bus with a broken AC (it is VERY hot in Cambodia right now). And in a bus full of 21 backpackers you may hear some groans mixed with a bit of laughter and one Englishman in the back may announce, "That's 30 km an hour," after doing the math in his sweaty head. And if you're really lucky you may pass a naked two year old riding "bareback" behind his sister on an oversized bicycle.

Past wooden houses built on stilts with people gathering underneath to escape the sun, children smile and play on the side of the street with their backs turned to the road so the red dust can't interrupt their game. Jenny and I are cautious where we put our feet since we are seated at the front, near the engine, and consequentially the insidiously heating metal floors.

We go bumping across a minefield spotted country, currently in the middle of a dry, red-cracked-earth-drought. Children splash around in puddles left in river beds, where green moss lingers as the only proof of a distant rainy season. In the evening men bathe their sons by spooning bowl full after bowl full from a metal pump. Women lower buckets into wells and at the tourist stops (aside the bumpy dirt roads) children who speak four languages run up to greet guests with smiles, and frowns when newcomers refuse to purchase their postcards or bracelets. A smile or slight tickle tend to dissolve the lugubrious glances from faces that struggle to maintain their stern appeal. One child knows Japanese, English, Thai, and Khmer (the Cambodian language).

"All of them have learned this in the past five years," explains our college-aged guide (an English literature student at the univeristy in Siem Reap-- his favorite historical American figure is Abraham Lincoln). Before that no tourists came on this road because the road "was dangerous (and plagued by) bandits." The only danger now seems to be the potholes, but we are on a road. Hidden landmines dot the countryside, mostly left over from the Khmer regime, but some from US cluster bombs planted after the Vietnam War (to stop northern vietnamese from escaping). "Now the Vietnamese enter as they please," continues our guide, "Even though WE can't leave the country. And our government doesn't care. They don't do anything." But throughout his serious explanations and discussion of genocide and repressive regimes, he smiles and jokes.

Cows seem to roam unhearded with bamboo bells around their necks and washboard ribs sticking out on either side. Apparently a new tourism has emerged in Cambodia where people (and supposedly this is especially popular with male Texans) can go to a bar-shooting range. Yup, an AK-47 and a cold one. For 100 US dollars you can blow up a cow with a rocket launcher and later, the death is dismissed as a mine explosion.