Saturday, July 27, 1929
Night before last I read a book till 5 AM—and when last night three mosquitoes got in my net and appeased their hunger, I didn’t finally get to sleep till after four, to be awakened at 5:45.
The train was not a bad one and uncrowded, so I got a little sleep and enjoyed the trip to Aramya Prades, the border and end of the line. Here the manager of the Railway Terminus Hotel, M.A. Steve, asked me if I would go in with two other men on a private motor car direct to Phnom Penh that evening. The fare was 20 piastres, while that of the bus was 16.80, but it took two days with the night stop at Battambang where the Bungalow only asks 13 piastres a night. So I took this as the best and cheapest way.
Had two drivers, one to relieve the other, and two other men, Cambodians I guess. After customs we set out on our 260-mile drive at 5:30. The roads were not so bad taking all into consideration, rain, etc. As a rule there were enough bumps, and in some places a couple inches of water covered the road. However, bumps were nothing to the driver, who tore along at 50 to 80 kilos per and faster. Got to Battambang about eight and had some food. One man left here.
Soon we were off again. The country was very interesting, even at dark. Much of it was cultivated into rice fields but vast tracks of land supported a sort of course grass, and all under a few inches of water. Sometimes the jungle crept in till we were roaring along under an archway of trees and vines. Small reed villages whizzed past, the lights or fires glowing mysteriously through the trees: Sampans floated on rivers and canals: Along the road caravans of reed-roofed, big-wheeled carts were drawn up for the night. The roads were just as full of pedestrians at one AM as in the daytime. Cattle often got in our way, but the driver usually scattered them in a hurry. His three horns were nearly always splitting the silence. Chief among his delights was to go through a puddle and splash bystanders with muddy water. He was very proficient at this and always had a huge hee-haw over it, probably bringing down a string of curses from his unfortunate victim. Large birds similar to quails would suddenly snap to and get themselves out of the road about two jumps ahead of the headlights that blinded them. Others flew straight before us and then there would be a 50-mile-an-hour race to overtake the thing, which usually got up enough sense to veer off when only a dozen feet ahead of us. Before dark I saw several large crane-like birds and two small black animals similar to a mongoose.
At 2:30 we pulled into Phnom Penh, rolled down the bank of the wide Mekong River and, cutting left, pulled up in front of the Hotel Café-Restaurant Thai-House. It is a Chinese joint and the rooms are not so bad if you don’t mind a little dirt, noise, and a 24-hour, 57-varieties of smells, odors, etc. The kitchen is right below my room and I get the benefit of all savory odors and some smoke. However, I can stand a lot to get a dollar room in this part of the world.