Chasing Amy-Lou

Kampot, Cambodia:

The last few days were a bit of a depression-induced interlude for me. The rain in Cambodia did not sit well with my desire for sunshine, and my outwardly cheery disposition became slightly hampered by my internal alter ego, an alter ego I like to call ‘the mood-hoover’; the hoover that only usually makes appearances when I can’t get my own way. And not being able to turn off the rain constituted as me not getting my own way. So I sulked. A lot.

Today though, I finally decided to stop feeling sorry for myself because I’d chosen to come to South East Asia during wet season; I decided to suck it up, get on with life and do something positive. Yesterday, Enrico, my yoga instructor, told me that pain is only temporary – that’s if it even exists at all; he said we need to embrace our fears and sadness, and we need to think of pain as something that’s only really present in our own minds; and more than that, we have to accept reality – we have to accept that all there is is the present, the now, the moment we are in. The sooner we do this the happier we’ll be. I couldn’t change the weather – it was wet season – and no matter how much it pained me, there was nothing I could do about it. I could however, change my attitude towards it – so I decided to take a look at the world through Enrico’s eyes. I could do one of two things – I could waste my time moping about feeling depressed and miserable because Cambodia at this point may as well have been the North West of England, and I may as well have been trudging through puddles in Grassmere or scaling Scafell Pike in sub-zero temperatures; or, I could get off my fat arse and be productive. Of course, I opted for the latter.

And guess what? On the day I decided that positivity would once again reign over my very being, the sun attempted to rear its gorgeous little head, and Kampot was pretty much dry for the first time in two days.

With hope in my heart and my mind racing with all kinds of ideas about what I could do and where I could go, I bit the bullet and settled on a scooter ride up Mount Bokor, a mountain just north-west of Kampot; a mountain with an eerie history.

Mount Bokor is part of the national park in Kampot but is probably most famous for its abandoned casino and hill station; its old church ruins and its hauntingly still lake; and not to mention the two-tiered Popokvil waterfall, and the giant statue of Lok Yeay Mao – a towering spectacle that looks even more impressive when shrouded in mist. Bokor Hill Station and Palace/Casino and it’s surrounding buildings and houses were evacuated and abandoned twice in the last century – once during the late 40s and once during the Khmer Rouge period. What remains are some pretty spooky and enchanting ruins, an eerie dam equipped with tired looking swan-boats, and some absolutely mind-blowing views (Google Mount Bokor for more info).

It’s a shame that I never got to see these mind-blowing views really, as I’d been looking forward to them all the way up the mountain; my jaunty old scooter struggling as I pushed it harder and harder up the 1km ascent. Had I not procrastinated and stopped at every bloody lookout point I came across, I might’ve had a better chance at witnessing the landscape over Kampot from the very top before I had to dramatically turn back. However, like all good things, there was an obvious end in sight.

The ride up to Popokvil waterfall had been quite delightful; save for a minor incident where I momentarily lost control of my scooter (while stationery may I add, and while the ignition was off), causing me to topple over like a drunken weeble, bike on top of me, and use my hand as the only cushion, resulting in a bruise that rendered me unable to clench my fist; save from that, the weather was pleasant and my mood had lifted; the views were pretty special and I couldn’t wait to get to the top.

Scootering along with a grin on my face, I graced the waterfall with my presence; I hadn’t really come prepared for any kind treacherous foot stomping so as I traversed the falls in the worst pair of flip flops I’ve ever owned, I tried with all my might not to slip and fall over the side to what would be inevitable death. Luckily I survived, and I’m glad I did as Popokvil was darn good looking – the heavy rain over the last few days had made for a great flow of water and as I attempted and subsequently failed to capture the elegance of it I realised I’d probably need something more hi-tech than just a battered old iPhone 5 with a cracked screen. My photos would never do it justice.

Jumping back on the scooter I headed for the old casino where I intended to scare myself to death by walking through the forgotten rooms and spooky corridors. But before I could get anywhere near the site, guess what happened? Yep, you guessed correctly, the rain came. And it didn’t just come lightly, it came hard. Hard and fast and cold and sideways and in my face and in my eyes and down my back and up my nose. And before long I was soaked to the bone, my ‘waterproof’ Gelert Stormlite 5000 clearly not doing what it said on the tin.

Cold, wet, shivering, in need of a cup of tea, and longing for a reprieve in precipitation, I decided to cut my time at the abandoned sites short. I couldn’t see a thing while scootering (and didn’t really feel like getting off the bike to walk round a suspected haunted building while I was looking and feeling like a water-boarded prisoner of war), the rain pelting me heavily, almost like hailstones; and I didn’t fancy my chances staying up there to see if it died off. So I hurriedly passed by the church and casino (which were very enticing and very nice looking and I’m sure if I’d stopped I’d have enjoyed wandering around them), took the obligatory shots while trying not to drown from the onslaught of water, and made my way slowly but surely back down the mountain, a smile on my face and a laugh radiating from my mouth – absolutely drenched and looking nothing like the cool Quadrophenia-esque MOD I wanted to look like.

Back at the hostel I had the most orgasmic hot shower (not strictly true but we all love a bit of embellishment), got myself warm again and then did the most rock ‘n’ roll things I could think of to end my day on a wave of positivity – I chuckled at my misfortune with the weather, I attended a yoga class, then I went to bed with a cup of hot water and lemon, rosy-cheeked and full of the joys of spring. Enrico would’ve been so proud.