Small-town Life in Kampot

The paint is peeling on the faded balconies in the square. Children shriek, flying their plastic-bag kites on the village green, the sun shines down, and the scene seems, to me, to be timeless. Even the builders vigorously restoring a roof and the low hum of passing motorcycles seems to fade into the background. The sky is a serene shade of blue, punctuated by the odd cloud.

I feel quite as though I am in rural Provence, but in fact I’m in Kampot, Cambodia. It has taken me several days and the discovery of the village green where I now sit, but all at once I see why so many foreigners come here and never leave. It offers a rare slice of small-town life, often so lacking in our anonymous modern world. You really get to know the local characters in the bookshop, the artsy café which is run by an incredibly sweet deaf woman (where I sit as I write this), even the butchers. Plus, all the windows have shutters, Provence-style. Shutters! Quite thrilling.

We while the evenings away in a café on the river, but earlier today we chartered a boat for a few hours. It was so peaceful, and quite the cleanest river we’ve encountered in Asia, as it’s near the source in the mountains. The water was like a rippling mirror. We stopped at a bathing hole which locals and Khamer tourists frequent – not another Western tourist in sight. The current was strong, so everyone took it in turns floating on a tire attached to a rock with a piece of rope as not to get washed away! We met a Khmer-American family who had lived in California for thirty years and spoke with the most bewildering twang I’ve ever heard. They wanted to share a roast chicken with us, but we had to decline as we wanted to watch sunset on the boat.

Floating back up the river, we watched the ripples our boat cast on the river surface as they were refracted by late afternoon sunlight. It was the most perfect weather: about 25 degrees with a lovely breeze. River-dwelling locals live in woven straw and bamboo huts along the river and they all yelled and waved to us as we drifted past. Lots of them were having very energetic splashing fights. Everyone is so young and energetic here; it’s striking. We’ve learnt never to ask about parents, because so many died under the Khmer Rouge. A sombre detail in a place which seems so tranquil today, and yet was one of the last Khmer Rouge outposts.