After lazing around forever on Otres beach and trying to avoid Koh Rong’s wildlife, it was finally time to leave the Cambodian coastline. We didn’t stray too far, of course – just a couple of hours in a crowded minivan down what passes for the main road from Sihanoukville.
I’d heard good things about Kampot for years, but never quite managed to get there. Much like Bokor Hill Station before the developers moved in, the place has a faded colonial charm. Old French buildings quietly decay along the main promenade, now largely converted into chilled-out restaurants and bars. There are as many bicycles as scooters riding by, and even the wide, brown river doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry to get anywhere.
Sleepy doesn’t even start to describe it. Like Kratie in the north of the country, Kampot is the kind of place where the days soon blur into a happy haze of sundowners and seafood, and any plans to leave get quietly shelved.
You need just one last plate of incredible ribs at the Rusty Keyhole. Maybe fit in another life-changing lunch of crabs in green pepper sauce somewhere. Of course those happy hour cocktails at Rikitikitavi really are very good.
One more day can’t hurt … right?