One of my favorite Dr. Seuss books is The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins. Each time Batholomew removes his hat, another appears in its place, eventually becoming bigger, fancier, Dr. Seuss-ier, culminating in the befeathered, bejeweled five-hundredth hat. At least, that’s how I remember it, I haven’t actually read it in, oh, a long time. I had a similar experience making my way around Cambodia, but in reverse; each bus I got on was junkier, more cramped, more crowded than the previous (with the notable exception of one rather luxurious minivan between Phnom Penh and Sen Monorom). My second to last leg in the country, from Kratie to Stung Treng, was in a minibus that somehow accommodated 25 individuals, although to be fair, a number of them were kids, who can fit into places that adults cannot. I didn’t actually count, I was just listening to a trio of British blokes behind me who spent a whole lot of time complaining about the state of things, including departing late, and expressing curse-laden wonderment each time we stopped for yet another passenger. They were apparently so miserable, they were joking how they would rather be dead than on that bus, and how they would do each other in. I was hoping they would actually follow through. It would have cleared out three seats for all the kids.

I wanted to turn around and ask them exactly how long they’ve been in Cambodia. It doesn’t take very long at all to realize that transportation here, of any nature, requires a certain degree of sturdiness and patience. Bus and minivan quality is a complete crap shoot. It’s routine to have more passengers than seats, at least according to the traditional boundary of a seat. Hotel pick-ups may arrive on time, or not. Boats and buses depart whenever, no matter what the stated departure time is. Freight, stacked in the aisle, is delivered door to door before passengers are dumped off at the bus stop, and some of the roads can test the fortitude and stamina of even the hardiest souls. For example, the road between Phnom Penh and Siem Reap/Angkor, the most popular tourist attraction by far in all of Cambodia, is quite possibly the worst bus journey I’ve ever been on. I think they are improving the road, but the first step seems to have been to rip up the entire distance between the two cities, all 300-something kilometers of it. It was like being on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. For five hours. Our driver would speed up, slow down, speed up, veer around construction. Everything along the way was covered in dust, and it was seeping into the minibus as well, through cracks in the doors and windows. I was never so relieved to arrive at my destination. In general, I possess a high tolerance for discomfort, but even then wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to last; I was slowly but surely starting to feel wonky.

But it’s Cambodia, and that’s just the way it is here. It’s hard to get more authentic than a grubby, slow, overcrowded bus whose shocks gave out long long ago. But in most cases, all my fellow passengers have been perfectly pleasant and well-behaved, given the, at times, less than comfortable circumstances. At least the Cambodians always are, and the tourists usually are. But not always. On that last bus, in addition to the three delicate British lads, I was sitting next to some guy of indeterminate Western origin (couldn’t place his accent), who was not only muttering under his breath, but trying to claim seat space by manspreading. His awful and inconsiderate behavior was contrasted sharply by a monk sitting at the other end of the row, neatly folded into his seat. I really wanted to just look him in the face and say, “Sir, you’re going to need to put your knees together.” Fortunately another Cambodian guy eventually joined us on our row, and together we managed to stop The Spread. I spent most of the ride staunchly holding my seat position and squaring my shoulders, just to cram my whiny seat-mate as far against the window as I could.

So to sum up, there are two lessons here: the first is, best to not take a bus in Cambodia if feeling anything less than 100%. The second is, take photos.

Atop the boat from Siem Reap to Battambang. A parasol would have been handy.

One in the back…

…one in the front.

I just like this sign. The nails make it look like an aqua car.

Flat tire! Just another day in Cambodia.