The Plan at Breakfast
The riding is over. I am preparing to leave Phnom Penh. I’m eating breakfast at the restaurant in the hotel and the plan for today is to go see the genocide museum maybe do a little shopping at the Russian market and catch a bus out of town to Ho Chi Minh City. 

Phnom Penh has the feel of a city that’s desperately trying to be modern. In many ways it’s similar to Tokyo; big buildings, lots of traffic, office ladies dress to the nines. But behind the big buildings are the street vendors, the trash and the poverty. It is clear that the U. S. dollar is a highly coveted commodity here. Many restaurants post prices in both dollars and riel. I don’t know which would give you a better deal. When you change money you lose a little bit of value. I haven’t been here long enough to know whether the dollar price is better than the riel price. There is always going to be a bit of rounding going on as there are no really small denominations in riel and nobody wants to deal with pennies, nickels, and dimes. I exchanged 400,000 Vietnamese Dong yesterday at the front desk here and they really gave me a bad deal. I realized it right away but there wasn’t much I could do about it. As soon as I had an Internet connection I confirmed that I lost 10 USD in value on a relatively small transaction. I felt they really didn’t want to exchange VND. They are really after USD. Perhaps, in the long run, it doesn’t matter, but I’m trying to keep this trip under budget. It also influences my overall impressions of the establishment’s honesty. I will mention this in my review. This place really could be nice with some more effort and pride. Given the Cambodian economy, 100,000 yen could make the place quite homey. 1,000,000 yen could make it a 5 star establishment. Of course, 100,000 yen is probably half a year’s salary for the average man in Cambodia. Perhaps there is a business opportunity for a careful foreign investor. Anyway, if I ever come to Phnom Penh I won’t be staying here again. There isn’t even a lake anymore. The government leased the land to a developer who filled the lake in and built buildings in its place.

When the Plan Falls Apart
What a crazy day! It started out okay but it pretty much went off the rails as soon as I checked out of the hostel. I stopped to chat with two other travelers who lounging in front of a neighboring hostel. We were talking about my bike and I was bragging how I had ridden it for 5 days without flats or mishaps when less than 30 seconds after leaving the gentlemen I noticed my back tire was low on air. I pulled over and aired up the tire. A few blocks later it was low again. I knew I had a flat. I stopped in front of the Science University and began to fix my flat. While I was working on it a guard came over to check me out. When it was clear to him that I was no kind of threat he smiled at me and disappeared. Flat fixed, I navigated my way to Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. I payed a thousand KHR to officially park my bicycle. 24¢ to park. Not bad. Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough riel or dollars so I decided to leave my bike safely parked at the museum and walk to the FX shop. I soon realized it was farther than I anticipated. There was a tuk tuk driver across the street. A great chance to go for a tuk tuk ride. It cost me 6,000 KHR to go close to my destination. I had pointed on the map to where I wanted to go. I think that because the Olympic Stadium dominated the map it distracted the driver from the pin drop on the FX shop. He didn’t take me all the way because I wasn’t clear enough about where I wanted to go when I pointed on the map. The FX office was near the Olympic Stadium which is a major landmark. He assumed I wanted to go there. No problem. It was now close enough to walk. 

I exchanged what I thought was a fair amount of Vietnamese Dong. The clerk handed me about 30 USD and few small riel notes. My first thought was to ask for riel only but it occurred to me that almost everybody prefers to get dollars over riel in Phnom Penh so I shrugged and excepted my greenbacks. 

Money in hand, I flagged another  tuk tuk. I picked a red one that was upholstered completely with astro turf and potted plants hanging in the windows. A real green design. I told him where I wanted to go repeating it several times. He quoted me a price of 8,000 khr and away we went. I thought I made myself clear about where I wanted to go. The Genocide Museum. Somehow the driver thought I meant some other museum it seems. After a while it felt like it was taking too long to get there so I checked the map and, sure enough, we were going on a tangent towards the palace. I told the driver he was going in the wrong direction. He did an amazingly tight u-turn. (Those tuk tuks can turn on a dime!) I suppose he wasn’t happy about the extra distance but it was his mistake. He didn’t charge me anymore than he quoted so I guess he was basically an honest guy. 

The Tuol Selong Genocide Museum
The Genocide Museum is a horrible place that everyone should visit. It is like the Genbaku Dome in Hiroshima or the Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Memorial. It is a reminder how atrocious humans can be to each other. While it is not stated outright a little connect-the-dots leads one to understand the United States’ complicity in the tragedy. I will not go into details here. One should experience for themselves or at least do their own research. Start with these links. 

Unfixable Flat
I stayed later than I planned at the museum. I had planned to go the Russian Market to get some souvenirs. It was too late. I wanted to leave town by 1 pm so I could get to Ho Chi Minh City at a reasonable hour. According to various web sites the trip would take 6-7 hours. No time for souvenir shopping. I decided to go to the bus terminal. Despite patching my tire, when I came out of the museum it was flat again. I pumped it up hoping it would last long enough to get to the bus terminal that I thought wasn’t very far away. It didn’t hold. Cycling on the streets of PP is challenging enough but I find it preferable to pushing a bike through the chaotic crowds of tuk tuks, food carts, delivery motorcycles, street venders and other users. I stopped at a sandwich shop and ordered a sandwich for 1 dollar which I took “to go”. I put air in the tire a got another few blocks on me way before I was back to pushing it again. I really wanted to fix the tire again but the streets were too crowded and I was still hoping to get on a bus by 1. The bus agent was in the middle of Orresy Market and very hard to find. Looking around the ticket office I realized it could not possibly be the bus depot. It was just too crowded and too chaotic. The ticket seller confirmed this. I tried to pay for my ticket with my credit cards to conserve my dwindling dollars and riel but the charge was denied. I paid $12 from my dwindling supply of USD. It was 12:20 and the bus left at 2:00. Not the worst result. All the online sources put the bus ride at 6-7 hours. That would mean getting to Ho Chi Minh City at 8 o’clickish. Acceptable. 

Unfortunately, the terminal was farther away than I expected. It was back towards where my hotel was and further north still. Peddling a bicycle, maybe 20 minutes or so away. Pushing a bicycle – a lot longer. There was nothing else for it but to set out. I aired up the tire once again and set off. I thought If I put air in the tire every few blocks I could make it in time. The air was leaking out faster and faster. I had to push it or fix it. 

I finally got through the market which was crowded and chaotic. I was pushing as fast as I could. It became clear to me that I wasn’t going to make it by two walking. I came upon a Hindu temple and pulled out of the noise and bustle into the calm. I would take the 15 to 20 minutes needed to fix the flat again and even have time to eat my lunch afterwards. 

I pulled out my tools and took off my panniers, because of course it was the back wheel. Took off the wheel, levered off the tire and pulled out the tube. The patch I put on earlier in the morning had been obliterated. All that remained was a square of adhesive. I had used a self-adhering patch I got from Cycle Mode last month. I thought it would be okay temporarily. It just didn’t hold up. Okay. Lesson learned; don’t be lazy, put on a real patch. I did so. I put the whole thing back together. Fine. Now there is time to eat my lunch. While I was working on the bike an older monk came by. He said something to me which I didn’t understand. I said something to him that he didn’t understand. We smiled at each other and he went on his way. A good but, for all practical purposes, meaningless interaction.

Belly full. It was time to go. Oh no. The tire was flat again. Argh! Now there was no time to open up that can of worms again. I made another sub-optimal decision. Just ride it with a flat and damn it all with the damage it will do to my tube, tire and rim. Not to mention my soul each time I hit a bump, and there were many. I covered the distance but time was bleeding away. 

I didn’t have a properly functioning map. Without cell service I couldn’t search for anything except when I could connect to Wi-Fi like at the sandwich shop. As I got near the bus terminal I started to look for buses. I know, a no-brainer, right. Bus terminal = buses. I couldn’t see any buses or anything that looked terminalish. I stopped to ask for directions at a local shop. I managed to make myself understood somehow. The woman pointed me back the way I came. Okay I passed it up somehow. I went a few hundred meters and asked again. I was pointed in the opposite direction. By this time I am starting to panic. Time is leaking away. I turned around again. No sign of a bus terminal. Did the Mekong Express Bus Terminal fall into another dimension? Like the Emperor’s new clothes is it only visible to party members in good standing? Was I suffering from bus blindness? I finally found it. The buses were all in the back, out of sight from the road. Logical but not what I expected. 

I had made it in time with 20 minutes to spare. I was reassured that I would be able to put the bicycle in the cargo compartment but it would cost $10. Fine, an acceptable expense. One problem, no combination of riel and dollars in my wallet came to $10 and my credit card was denied again. There was a hairy faced occidental foreigner and his family sitting nearby. In the worse case scenario I could ask him to exchange some dong for me – maybe. Fortunately, I was able to pay in dong at a fair rate.  Whew. 5 minutes to 2. Mission accomplished. But no bus. After all that, it left an hour late.

Long Bus Ride and a Border Scam
If I had known, I could have tried to fix my tire again. If it is even repairable after all the abuse I gave it riding on it flat. I was glad to be on the bus with an E.T.A. of 9 pm. Still acceptable. I settled in for a long ride as the bus crawled through the city. I made the acquaintance of an Australian man traveling with his family; mom, dad (the same hairy faced chap in the terminal waiting room Ithat  considered borrowing or buying currency from) and his four kids. From him I learned why my credit card was rejected. The settlement company used by most businesses in this part of the world is Chinese and Visa and Mastercard just deny authorization as a matter of course. We swapped stories of our travels in Asia.

As the bus rolled through the benighted countryside, back along the road I had come on the day before the sun set and we were still on the Cambodian side of the border. It became clear to me that I was going to arrive in Ho Chi Minh later than I expected.  I wanted to notify my hotel but wouldn’t have cellular service until I got back to Vietnam. Meanwhile, the bus attendant , a stockily built fellow, came down the aisle checking all of our passports to make sure we had a proper visa (something that was already checked when we bought our tickets). He informed us that we would not have to pay anything on the Cambodian side to exit the country but there might be a 1 or 2 dollar charge on the Vietnamese side of the border for the entrance stamp.

After a rest stop another, skinnier bus attendant came through the bus checking our passports again telling us the same story. Finally, skinny bus attendant guy came through again repeating the process. I was still baffled and skeptical. After all, I didn’t have to pay any fee when I arrived at the Ho Chi Minh Airport. I didn’t pay anything extra when I was leaving Vietnam. I saw the list of fees at the land border crossing and I don’t remember there being a charge listed for any kind of entry fee other than the official visa fees.

We finally got to the border somewhere around 9 pm. The Cambodian border officer stamped our passports. There was even a sign posted that clearly stated that no payment was needed. So far the story held up. Next, on to the Vietnamese checkpoint. At the Vietnam checkpoint we had to unload our luggage to go through customs. So I followed the other passengers pushing my dirty and wounded Mini-V through the border station, the bus attendant once again informed all of us waiting in line that we would need to pay a dollar to get our exit stamp. Well, I was fresh out of dollars. I asked if I could pay in dong. The attendant told me 30,000. I wasn’t sure how much a dollar was in dong but I was sure his math was wrong. I handed the attendant my passport without any money in it. He was trying to get us processed in one batch. I think he was just adding to the confusion. 

After the passports were stamped Mr. Skinny would call our name and give us back our passport. When I got my passport back there was no stamp. The stamp “fee” was unavoidable. I wasn’t going to get screwed again with some ballpark exchange rate math so I pulled out my phone (I finally had cel service again.) and looked up the rate. 1 red blooded American dollar equals 23,000 dong and change. You better believe I was rounding down this time. I put 23,000 dong in my passport and put it back on the officer’s counter. I felt if anyone would accept a bribe in dong it was a hardworking, honest Vietnamese border officer. In a few minutes the bus attendant called my name again. My passport was lighter by 23,000 dong but adorned with a beautiful re-entry stamp. I think I could have gotten by with just 20,000 VND. Any amount to grease the uncertain good will between nations is worth it, right?. What a scam! Think about, a busload of about 30 travelers times how many buses. Each passenger being charged a dollar or two extra. Given the Vietnamese economy, a tidy little profrit that.

We finally rolled into Ho Chi Minh a little after 11 pm. A trip of 8 plus hours. It was only a few blocks to my hotel. At least, I planned this part out well. I pushed Mini-V through the late night revelers to my Hostel. M.O.M. Hostel & Cafe. A funny name but a nice place. Unfortunately, it was way past check-in time. Fortunately, a short e-mail message to the front desk unlocked the door before I had time to come up with a plan B. Unlike some of the other places I stayed in the room was prepay. I didn’t have enough dong now thanks to my donation to the border guards of Vietnam auxiliary fund. The clerk took my passport as insurance until I could exchange more cash the following day. The room cost about 5 dollars and I was about a dollar short.

Lessons Learned
1. Be more precise when giving directions to tuk tuk drivers.
2. Carry pencil and paper with you to write down prices and place names. It helps to avoid confusion.
3. Don’t change money at the front desk of backpacker hotels. They tend to use prodigious rounding skills to give themselves favorable rates.

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It was my last day of cycling. I was just a day’s ride from my final destination in the Mekong River Valley, Phnom Penh, the capitol of Cambodia.

I ate my croco-sant and 2 of my mystery fruit for breakfast. (Check out the video to learn more about croco-sant and mystery fruit. No spoilers here.) I planned to exchange some more dong for riel at the front desk when I checked out. Unfortunately, the man at the front desk was not the same as the young fellow from the previous afternoon. He didn’t seem to understand English but he was able to say enough that I understood that he would not change any money. So once again I was pedaling through a foreign country with almost no useable cash in my pocket. On the bright side I still had two mystery fruit and a lot of water. I filled up every bottle I could find with filtered water. Altogether I think I was carrying about 5 or 6 liters of water. The bottles were piled up on my rack and tied down with bungee chords. There were so many in my precarious pile that occasionally one would fall off when I hit a bump. I am pretty sure that at least one bottle went missing in action during the morning. 

My route took me back over the big yellow bridge again. Fresh from a good nights sleep it was a lot easier climb than the night before. On the other side I pointed my handle bars to the north. This section of the road was equivalent to the day I spent riding on National Highway 91 except now I was on the famous Asian Highway 1 That connects Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. I noticed fewer bicycles, more cars, ambulances, motorcycles pulling big trailers loaded with good and materials and lots of tuk tuks.

Tuk Tuks
Tuk tuks are cute little 3 person, 3 wheeled vehicles that are used as taxis and are ubiquitous in Phnom Penh and the surrounding towns. Even the name is fun to say. Try it! Tuk tuk. Tuk tuk. See what I mean the most fun you can have with your lips by yourself. When I first considered traveling to Cambodia I saw pictures of tuk tuks and fell in love with them instantly. I was wondering if I would get a chance to ride in one. It didn’t seem likely as I brought my own transportation with me. As the morning wore on I lightened my load by wetting my whistle from my stock of water.

I’m going to say it straight out. The most interesting thing I saw on the road that day was not tuk tuks. It was two pigs and some cattle. In Cambodia a common way to haul goods is on a flatbed trailer pulled by a small motorcycle (maybe only about 100cc or 150cc). The trailers are 3 or 4 times longer than the motorcycle in some cases. I passed by a motorcycle with an unexpected cargo. (By this time I don’t know why any kind of vehicle with a load would surprise me but this one did.) I passed a motorcycle and trailer parked alongside the road. The motorcycle was pulling a trailer with a big cage on the trailer. As I passed by I looked down and saw two enormous hogs in the trailer. They were laying down with barely enough room to standup. At first I thought the hogs were dead but when I doubled back to get a better look I could see that they were awake. I don’t know if they were drugged or sleepy or just a very placid pigs. I think they probably weren’t drugged because the hogs were way too big to get in the cage if they weren’t alert enough to walk into the cage under their own power. The unexpected doesn’t end there. As I looked up I saw a woman and a little girl trying to lead two cows and a calf across the busy road. Now Cambodian cows are not old Macdonald’s rotund, sloe-eyed gentle dairy cows. Cambodian cows are tall, slender legged, you could even say svelte, humpbacked behemoths. The woman held rope halters for all three beasts and directed them with her voice and a judicious tugs on the rope while the little girl walked along side with a thin stick. I don’t know if she used the stick to motivate the cows or if she had just picked it up for fun as children around the world will do. It is a universal law that if a child sees a stick on the ground they will pick it up and swing it around when their parents are not looking. (How do I, as an adult know this, you ask? Because of the other universal law that says all parents have eyes in back of their head until their children are old enough to move out of the house.) The calf was taller than the girl and the two full-grown cows were taller than her mother but somehow the woman got herd and offspring across the road safely.

By the time 11 am rolled around I felt like I was making good enough progress to take my lunch break. I learned the day before that Buddhist temples are a good place to take a break. They are generally quiet places. That is not to say they are somber places. Buddhism in Cambodia looks very different from Buddhism in Japan. Besides the obvious differences in architecture and the use of color (Cambodian temples are very colorful. Some might even call them gaudy.) To my mostly uninformed mind Buddhism in Cambodia seems more like a living religion where in Japan Buddhism is respected for its historical and cultural value but it is not a thing Japanese people believe in. I think some of the differences are sectarian. I am sure the general precepts are the same but the feel is different.

In any case, I found a quiet bench where I could eat my mystery fruit and swig H2O and watch strays dogs fighting over some unknown canine grudge. Later, one of combatants limped over to share my patch of shade. While it didn’t cozy up to me neither did it show any fear of me. Mostly it just displayed indifference. If I had tried to pet him he most likely would have displayed his teeth. We left each other alone and neither of us was the worse for the experience.

Phnom Penh
I still had enough water left and I felt that Phnom Penh was just around each corner and just over the horizon. It wasn’t but I got there in good time. I was happy when I saw the sign saying welcome to Phnom Penh. Phnom Penh is a big city. (Though, not so big as Tokyo me thinks.) Just because you have entered the city does not mean you have arrived.

The traffic in Phnom Penh was the heaviest that I experience during my whole trip. More cars, trucks, and tuk tuks than Saigon. (Actually there aren’t any tuk tuks in Saigon.) At a bridge leading into the center of the city I got embroiled in a traffic jam because of road construction on the other side. I think this bridge would have been a bottleneck anyway. I found myself wheel to wheel with tuk tuks and motorcycles. Traffic jams are not particularly dangerous for bicycles in the sense that it is moving really slowly. I was caught in it just long enough to get over the bridge. Once on the other side I dropped out and cut north following my route.

As I got near my hotel I realized that I had a problem. I hadn’t mapped the route all the way to my hotel. This is because I wasn’t exactly sure where I would be staying in Phnom Penh until about a week before leaving. I was trying to arrange another Warmshowers host but all of my attempts fell through. Not only did I not have any local currency I did not have any kind of cell receptions in Cambodia because the SIM card that I bought at the Ho Chi Minh City airport stopped working at the Cambodian border. I knew the general area where my hotel was located but I hadn’t mapped it out on my offline maps. Without cell reception I couldn’t just look it up on Google Maps and follow the directions. Finally, when I thought that I was close I approached a foreign couple I spotted on the sidewalk and asked them if they could look it up for me. I took a snapshot of the route displayed on the man’s phone. Somehow, I was able to reach my destination.

#10 Lakeside Hotel
The #10 Lakeside Hotel has been a misnomer for the past decade. It used to be on a lake until the Cambodian government leased the land to a developer who filled in the lake and built condominiums on top of it. I lies tucked in a back alley off of the busy Monivong Boulevard next to other backpacker hotels. The first floor is a semi-open-air restaurant and lounge. It has an air of neglected Franco-Indochine decadence in a very small place. The cost for one night was about $5. It was here that I realized that Phnom Penh wants dollars. All the prices were listed in dollars. Of course, I had neither dollars or riel. The front desk allowed me to pay in dong and exchanged enough for me to get dinner which was about 15 dollars. They changed an exorbitant exchange rate. I figured I lost ten dollars of valley because of their liberal policy of rounding calculations in their favor. I found that a lot of rounding goes on in Cambodia. If I were changing a lot of money a 10 dollar surcharge would not have been such a big deal but I was on a shoestring budget and 10 dollars was the difference between eating breakfast the next day or not. The whole experience soured my feeling about #10 Lakeside Hotel and gave it an overall impression of seediness.

Lessons Learned
1. Map out your entire ride, including your alternative routes and download to your phone when you have connectivity.
2. Check the exchange rates before exchanging money.

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