The ghosts of Bokor Hill

 

Just as India had its hill stations for the British colonials to escape the heat and humidity of the Indian plains, so did Cambodia, and we visited the now-deserted and rather sad-looking remains of the Bokor Hill Station en route from Kampot to Sihanoukville.

Thanks to an academic article I located (Kitagawa Takako, ‘Kampot of the Belle Époque: From the Outlet of Cambodia to a Colonial Resort’, Southeast Asian Studies, vol.42, no.4, March 2005), I can report that construction of the Station d’altitude de Bokor began towards the end of 1920. The road up from Kampot, approximately 42 kilometres away, was completed in 1921, and the Bokor Palace Hotel and Casino, a stunning building very much in keeping with the then current Art Deco style of architecture, was officially opened in 1925.

As well as the hotel, there were also shops, a church, a post office, and the King’s Royal Apartments. Most of these buildings have since been demolished but the church and the hotel are still clearly identifiable and easily visited – but, be quick, if you intend checking out this amazing place.

Bokor Palace Hotel and Casino

First, the French abandoned Bokor Hill during the First Indochina War (from 1946 to 1954), when the hotel was used as a hospital. They left for good when the Khmer Rouge took over the area in the 1970s and the Palace Hotel was burned by bands of the guerrilla group Dragon Noir. But by far the worst damage to the evocative atmosphere of this place has been done in more recent years.

The new casino is a blot on the skyline

In 2007 the Cambodia government sold a 99-year lease on the mountain to the Chinese Sokimex Group (owner of Sokha Resorts and Sokimex oil, amongst other companies) for US$100million and the mountain has already been irredeemably changed for the worse. The new 32-kilometre road that winds its way up the steep escarpment is probably the best road I’ve seen anywhere in Cambodia - but there is a charge to use it – and the first stages of the new development have now been completed, with a sprawling and exceedingly ugly casino already open for business. Sokimex have huge plans for their hill – as well as the casino, they plan on constructing more hotels, golf courses, and water parks, as well as a major port complex on the nearby coast, from where they intend helicoptering guests from visiting cruise ships to the plateau resort. It all sounds as hideous as their new casino.

The grand salon at the Bokor Palace

The remains of the floor tiles hint at the former Art Deco grandeur of the hotel

When you google Bokor Hill, you can read stories of the eerie atmosphere of the ghost town and see images of buildings covered in the black mould and orange lichen that come from years of decay. But, already the ghostly remains of the Bokor Palace have been forever altered. The building appears to have been water-blasted, whether in preparation for refurbishment by Sokimex is not clear. It has certainly altered the spooky character that earlier travellers have written of, even if the dramatic cliff-top position and impressive architecture remain unchanged.

And, as for the ghosts – the story goes that Frenchmen, ever dramatic, would throw themselves off the cliff behind the casino after loosing their fortunes from a night’s gambling, then return to haunt the rooms of the hotel. I can only hope that they are now wandering the corridors of Sokimex’s new casino and will scare away those visitors!

The old water reservoir tower opposite the hotel

Kampot market

Kampot is a small town, an hour’s bumpy and breezy tuk-tuk ride north of Kep. It doesn’t have a lot going for it: a riverside setting; an economy based on pepper production and on the salt gathered from large drying fields just outside of town; fruit, which it celebrates with a statue of a giant durian in the middle of the town’s central roundabout; and a rickety old bridge, which is a hodge-podge of 4 different architectural styles and looks likely to collapse at any moment.

I did like the remnants of French colonial architecture, though sadly most of those old buildings are going to rack and ruin. So, for me, Kampot’s best feature was its large, smelly, noisy, chaotic market. Rather than try and describe what we saw there, I thought I’d let my photos do the talking.

"Buy my pig!" "No, buy my pig" This seemed to be how the conversation was going.

The fish sellers ... and eaters!

A good selection of seafood here ... and mostly alive, so fresh

More fish ... and cockles. It was very smelly, but really fascinating

Squid, octopus, prawns ... you name it, they sold it

The cushion-cover seller had some colourful wares and a lovely smile

When my flash went off taking this picture, the girl almost stitched her own finger! Oops

There was a huge variety of fresh fruit and vegs available as well

The sellers were mostly happy to be photographed, then giggled hysterically with their mates when shown the pictures

Name the fruit!

Kep: crab capital of Cambodia

The drive from Phnom Penh to Kep takes about 3 hours and was particularly pleasant in the air-conditioned comfort of a nice car, luckily with a very good driver as the roads can be hazardous. The secret to driving here appears to involve never hesitating while always keeping a keen eye on everything else on the road, including dogs and cows, people and bicycles, motorbikes and tuk tuks, cars, trucks and buses.

As with the road down from Siem Reap, the countryside outside of Phnom Penh was mostly flat but as we got closer to the coast there were hills, some quite rugged, and in Kep our hotel, the Beach House, was built on a hillside overlooking the beach and the waters of the Gulf of Thailand.

A statue of a woman looking out to see for her fisherman husband
at the end of the main beach at Kep

After dumping our bags, we headed straight across the road to the beach for a paddle as the boys had never been to the seaside before and, bearing in mind they are 17 and 24 years old, were incredibly excited – their wide white grins were a joy to see. The sea was incredibly warm, almost as hot as the humid tropical air.

Kep is particularly famous for its delicious crabs and, just as other places have huge statues of their typical food product (Ohakune has its carrot and Woombye its big pineapple), so Kep has its large statue of a crab – a male crab I am reliably told – something to do with the width of the central plate on its tummy!

Later that first afternoon we walked the 3 kilometres around the bays to the crab market. A small troop of monkeys were feeding and frolicking in the trees above one of the old abandoned houses that litter the coast around Kep. According to our guide book, Kep was founded in 1908 as a beach resort for French colonials and thrived for 60-odd years as their favourite holiday destination. But then the French abandoned their luxurious villas after independence and many still stand, empty crumbling shells of once magnificent buildings.

Both the sunset, which we enjoyed at the one of the restaurants near the crab market, and the crabs we ate later were superb, as were all the other types of fresh seafood we savoured in Kep – prawns, shrimps, fish, squid and octopus. Seafood is my absolute favourite food so I was in heaven, except for one meal. Be warned, “deep-fried prawns in powder” is actually battered deep-fried prawns, with more batter than prawn and nothing else to accompany this rather disappointing dish.

Kep is quite spread out so the following morning’s walk took us a few kilometres in the opposite direction to the market, to the pier where the boats to Rabbit Island depart. We booked for the following morning and spent the rest of the day relaxing, the boys and Marianne swimming in the sea and the hotel pool, me sitting on a chair overlooking the bay, sometimes writing, sometimes just enjoying the view. Another evening, another sunset, more beers and succulent seafood! 

We woke to the sound of rain, which became almost torrential as the morning progressed. But the locals assured us it would clear by lunch time and it did allow some time to catch up on blogs and emails and writing. We also made a new, bright green friend, which turned out to be a coconut locust that looked like a leaf – its method of protection from predators, I assume.

The locals were right about the weather, so we tuk-tukked round to catch our boat around 11am. There we encountered a problem: we had paid for a private boat so we could come and go when we pleased but our boatman tried to rip us off by bringing a parcel of locals and 2 German backpackers along for the ride. No big deal, you might think, but if you don’t stand up against scams like this, the local people will continue to try them, tourists will become disgruntled and not return. So, we argued the point and eventually negotiated a refund of $10 off our initial price of $30, which means we actually got the return trip for $5 per person, cheaper than the usual $7 or $8 per person price.

It was a slow pleasant chug out to Rabbit Island in one of the wooden longboats the locals normally use for fishing. I’m not sure why the island is so-named as there were no rabbits and it wasn't shaped like one either; there was just a line of small wooden huts roofed with palm fronds and a sprinkle of shack-type restaurants designed for those tourists seeking a desert island experience. Everything was fairly basic and the island might well resemble paradise except for all the rubbish everywhere.

The island is relatively small, just 6 kilometres around and there’s supposed to be a track circling the island. But it is very overgrown and, in places, difficult to negotiate, so we only managed to visit 3 bays before the path petered out. To continue we would have had to clamber over jagged rocks or risk severe scratching by forcing our way through the sometime spiky undergrowth so we did neither. It was still a nice walk, watching crabs scuttle along the sand, collecting shells, and paddling in the warm water. The locals who don’t earn their living catering to the tourists are fishermen and we passed a tiny village of 4 or 5 scraggy huts where the men were repairing their nets, chickens ran squawking about and shy children peeked at us through hut windows.

It was nice to see the island while it was still relatively unspoilt as I imagine a return visit in 5 years’ time might find a concrete-block resort building dominating the beach front, though I fervently hope that won’t happen.

A woman checks the crab pots

We enjoyed another magnificent sunset – I took 55 photos in just one hour! – and salivated over more delicious seafood, and that is certainly how I will remember Kep, for its fresh succulent crabs and the stunning colours of its sky as the sun went down.

Locals swim as the sun sets over Kep beach