The sound of one hand clapping

I am sitting looking at what I think is the Gulf of Thailand in Sihanoukville. (I think the water is the Gulf of Thailand - I’m sure I’m Sihanoukville.) Journey was four hours from Phnom Penh, largely on the wrong side of the road, but that’s what horns are for, I suppose. I shut my eyes and nodded off, ignorance being preferable to knowing about a head-on collision. I woke up without my watch.

Sihanoukville is great but there’s bugger all to do. It’s a bit like the beaches in the south of Thailand, only less spoilt. I spent the day yesterday reading a book on the beach (Elizabeth Costello by J.M. Coetzee - thank God that’s over) and took to bed early. Had a swim after dark and got excited by the bioluminescence. I spent a few minutes pretending I was Mickey Mouse in Fantasia then got bored and tired.

Unfortunately time constraints mean I’m leaving Cambodia the day after tomorrow. As I write this my passport is with a barman, who’s either stamping it with a home-made Vietnamese visa or taking it to the Consulate. I hope it’s the latter. You can fill in visa applications in most bars here and pay one of the lackeys a couple of dollars to take it for the stamp. Which gives me more time to do nothing.

I’ve decided that solo travel works best in cities. Climbing a hill or pounding the beach are experiences better shared (”ooh isn’t that nice!”) whereas in cities you automatically share your experiences with the thousands of people you are studiously doing your best to ignore. Or perhaps I’m just a city-boy. I will happily plod the streets and peer into doorways for weeks on end. More than one day at the beach and self-mutilation becomes a good idea.

I’ve just booked our accommodation for Christmas in Siem Reap for Angkor Wat. I was corresponding with Gordon Sharpless of the excellent Tales of Asia and Two Dragons Guesthouse. He offered to pick us up from the bus station in Siem Reap when we arrive with the following words of wisdom:

“If it’s a bus from Phnom Penh we can pick you up at the station and save you the trouble of fighting with all the moto drivers.

“If it’s a bus from Bangkok, that is a bus you absolutely do not want to take under any circumstances.”