A Backpacking Journey to Cambodia
May 2000: For my second trip to Asia, following my first adventure in China, I booked a standby ticket through Mesaba Airlines, where I was working as a baggage handler in 2000. With a cheap ticket to Bangkok in hand, I set off with a simple goal—to travel overland into Cambodia and spend a week backpacking through the country, culminating in a visit to the ancient temple complex of Angkor Wat.
At the time, Cambodia was still off the main backpacker circuit, raw and untamed, with just enough infrastructure to make independent travel an adventure. The journey ahead promised a mix of chaotic transport, rugged landscapes, and encounters with a country still emerging from its dark past.
About Cambodia
Cambodia: A Country Rising from the Ashes
Once the heart of the mighty Khmer Empire, Cambodia in 2000 was a country still emerging from decades of terror and war. Few nations had endured as much suffering. Already one of the poorest countries in the world, Cambodia had been devastated by American bombing during the Vietnam War, followed by the brutal rule of the Khmer Rouge, who killed millions of their own people in a radical attempt to return to an agrarian society. Even after the Khmer Rouge was ousted by the Vietnamese invasion, they continued to wage guerrilla warfare from the remote forests well into the mid-1990s.
Even in 2000, as I made my way into Cambodia, there were reports of rogue Khmer Rouge fighters still hiding in the mountains, remnants of a brutal past refusing to fade. Guns were everywhere, generations had been desensitized to violence, and lawlessness thrived in the shadow of extreme poverty. There were stories of bandits with AK-47s robbing travelers, but rather than deterring me, it fueled my sense of adventure.
Unlike Thailand, which had long catered to tourists, Cambodia was raw, unpolished, and untamed—exactly the kind of place I had come to Southeast Asia to explore. So, I made my way to the border and crossed into Cambodia, ready to experience the crumbling majesty of Angkor Wat and the hundreds of decaying Khmer temples lost to time.
My route I took
Crossing into Cambodia & Confronting a Dark Reality in Sihanoukville
I crossed into Cambodia by bus through Thailand, spending the night in a small border village, where the streets were lined with insect markets selling fried crickets and silkworms. From there, I took a motorboat taxi across the water, arriving in a quiet coastal farming village, where I spent the night in a simple bamboo hut, surrounded by rice paddies and the hum of the countryside.
The next day, I caught a bus to Sihanoukville, Cambodia’s largest city on the Indian Ocean. It was a gritty port town, where fishermen, backpackers, and expats mixed in a chaotic blend of tourism and survival. I stayed at a guesthouse run by a Scottish man, who welcomed me in and later took me around the city.
One of the strangest places I visited was the city zoo, unlike any I’d seen before. Every animal was available to be touched, turning the place into an unregulated petting zoo. I spent time playing with a baby gibbon, which clung to my arm like a child. It was surreal—but nothing compared to what I would witness next.
That evening, my host took me to a pier lined with bamboo bars, glowing softly with red lanterns over a still lagoon. At first, it felt atmospheric—like a peaceful, tucked-away part of town—but I soon realized the grim reality.
This was Sihanoukville’s red-light district.
Each bamboo bar was a brothel, and hundreds of young Cambodian girls were for sale. Some looked barely into their teens, their futures stolen by poverty and desperation. For them, this wasn’t a job—it was survival.
A man approached me, leading a scared, silent girl by the arm. In broken English, he called her his sister. She looked no older than 16 years old—though I feared she was much younger.
I stood there, helpless, knowing there was nothing I could do in that moment. But what disturbed me most was that this place wasn’t hidden. It wasn’t a secret. It was operating out in the open—without fear, without shame—because corruption allowed it to.
I left that night, shaken. Some things from my travels fade into memory over time. This was not one of them.
Me holding a baby gibbon
A Land of Extremes: Stranded in the Jungle & Cambodian Kindness
The next day, the Scottish man invited me on a jeep excursion into Cambodia’s jungle interior, eager to show me more of the countryside and a remote waterfall. The drive started out smooth, but deep in the jungle, we hit a treacherous stretch of muddy road, and the jeep became hopelessly stuck.
We tried everything—rocking the vehicle, pushing, digging out the tires—but nothing worked. Just as frustration was setting in, a group of Cambodian men emerged from the trees as if out of nowhere. Without hesitation, they grabbed their machetes and cut branches to use as makeshift logs to free the wheels.
Within minutes, they had the jeep back on solid ground. They didn’t ask for anything in return—no money, no favors. Instead, they simply smiled, waved, and disappeared back into the forest.
Cambodia was a land of stark contrasts. It was a place where war survivors walked the streets missing limbs from landmines, and orphaned children were forced into the darkest corners of society to survive. But it was also a place where people with nothing still gave freely, where kindness and humility thrived despite decades of suffering.
This moment stayed with me—not just for the rescue, but for the reminder that in even the harshest places, humanity endures.
My jeep stuck in the jungle
We eventualy made it to the waterfalls
Journey to Phnom Penh: A Different Kind of Hostel
Leaving Sihanoukville, I crammed into a rickety, overcrowded bus bound for Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital. The ride was slow, hot, and chaotic, with people squeezed into every available space, luggage stacked high, and the occasional live chicken fluttering beneath the seats.
Once in Phnom Penh, I checked into a hostel with a rather unique menu—alongside the usual budget traveler fare, they sold desserts laced with marijuana. Cakes, cookies, shakes—you name it. It was a place that catered to backpackers looking to get lost in the haze of Phnom Penh’s wild energy.
The city was raw, loud, and unpredictable—exactly what I had come to Cambodia to experience.
Flooded streets of Phnom Penh
Journey to Angkor Wat: Exploring the Lost Temples
From Phnom Penh, I took a public ferry up the river to Siem Reap, the gateway to the ancient Khmer temples of Angkor Wat. The journey itself was an experience—a slow, winding passage through rural Cambodia, passing floating villages, fishermen casting their nets, and children playing along the riverbanks.
Angkor Wat was a vast, otherworldly complex of temples, built nearly 1,000 years ago and left largely unexcavated until recent decades. Many temples remained overgrown by jungle, their stone walls swallowed by massive tree roots, while others sat abandoned, rumored to still be surrounded by hidden landmines from the war.
To explore, I hired a motorbike taxi, and my driver took me to dozens of temples, most of them completely empty of tourists—a rare experience compared to what Angkor has become today. With crumbling ruins, hidden chambers, and towering stone faces staring out from ancient walls, it felt like I had stepped into a lost world.
Ankor Wat Temples
Me at an Ankor Wat Temple
Me posing with a Buddhist Monk at anAnkor Wat Temple
Buddhist Monks Approaching at Ankor Wat
Me on top of one of the Ankor Wat temples overlooking the jungle
Friendly monk
Ankor Wat
Ankor Wat
Leaving Cambodia: A Flight Back to Bangkok
After days of exploring the ancient temples of Angkor Wat, I left Siem Reap on a small weekly flight to Bangkok. The aircraft was modest, the kind that felt every gust of wind, but it was a faster alternative to the long overland journey back through Cambodia.
As the plane lifted off, I watched the jungle-clad ruins of Angkor fade beneath me, thinking about the extremes I had witnessed—unparalleled beauty, heartbreaking poverty, kindness, and survival. Cambodia had been raw, unfiltered, and unforgettable.