Kampot

After the oppressiveness of Phnom Penh, boarding a bus to go south towards the coast, left me feeling quite light-hearted. My destination was the tiny town of Kampot. Older gastronomists amongst you may recognise the name. There was a time when no self respecting high end restaurant (especially those in Paris) would be seen without a bottle of expensive Kampot pepper on the table. Alas the coming of the Khmer Rouge saw a desolation of the pepper plantations but they are slowly being nurtured again. The pepper has protected status (like Champagne or Parma ham) but it only flourishes in a small area within Cambodia. It cannot even be grown in other areas within Cambodia. Whilst here I thought it would be rude not to visit the pepper farms – my goodness, it is exceptionally

strong stuff.Whilst in Kampot I was also introduced to the rainy season proper. When it rains – it is torrential and doesn’t stop for 18 hours. Roads are turned into unpassable mud bogs – try to walk on them and you would sink to your shins. Needless to say on those days, I didn’t do much. I read alot. Can you believe that one of the books at my hostel was by a Wakefield author and was set in Wakefield. The author has some skill as she made Wakefield sound picturesque, even when a serial killer was dumping bodies at NewMillerDam and Sandal Castle! Just outside the tiny town of Kampot lies Bokor Hill. This is a famous spot as it is where Napoleon dropped of a handful of French colonists. The abandoned church is still standing, looking eerie in the perpetual mist, but all that remains of the rest of the town is the odd floor tile that has not been completely covered in grass. The French were not the only ones to build atop the hill. The former king built a summer palace up there. As you can see, it looks completely derelict. You can walk around it, the rains and mist have eroded all decoration, there is nothing left except the exposed brick work,

some floor tiles, plently of bullet holes (when the Khmer Rouge seized it) and one pair of shackles drilled into the wall (when the Khmer Rouge used it as a prison and execution centre). From the evidence of Bokor Hill, if you wish something of your house to last a long time – then use floor tiles. On dry days I enjoyed cycling around Kampot into the surrounding villages. The countryside here is truly beautiful, with the rains making it lush and vibrant. It is still very much an agricultural economy with old style farming methods being used. Hoes are used to break up the soil and oxen are used as ploughs. With rice being the staple crop, the rice paddy's are knee deep in water. I actually saw a farmer with two ox pulling a plough through the rice field. This is where it becomes really cool. The farmer was stood on his plough (a plank of wood strapped to the two ox) and he was water skiing across the rice fields. He even waved at me as he passed. I wish I had got my camera to hand - but I hadn't.

About 20km away from Kampot is the town of Kep. It is famous throughout Cambodia for one thing. Crab. The crab market is renowned, and if there is a national, world class dish, then it is Kep crab with Kampot pepper. I have never eaten crab before, but what a place to start. Luckily my dining companion was a Spanish lady who was well accustomed to the perils and pitfalls that surround eating crabs in their shells. I did get given some nut crackers, but my crabs were tiny and fell through the nutcrackers. I had to rely on brute strength - therefore it took me forever, but it really was one of the best meals I have ever had. The pepper sauce was amazing, it was fresh pepper, picked on the bud, and unless someone has a pepper tree in their back garden, that sauce will be impossible to replicate. To make the experience even better, the restaurant was built on stilts and jutted out into the ocean. We could see the ocean below us through the floorboards and feel the ocean breeze as there were no windows, just empty spaces where windows could have gone. Thankfully it was a rain free day. Kampot has to be one of the friendliest places I have been to. Everybody waves and greets you as you pass. For such a tiny place, it as a high proportion of ex pats - or pot pats as they call themselves. I have eaten some great food here, from battered fish bites to a local lady who cooks the best Indian food I have tasted. The palak paneer (spinach curry) was outstanding - although I feel she uses more spices than a traditional Indian cook. My mouth was on fire for quite some time. Even the local bakery did a mouth watering chocolate cake. I realised I had to move on whilst I was still able to walk - I am going to miss the food though!