Khmer style tattoo removal
Trip Start Apr 08, 2012
9Trip End Ongoing
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Bus is the same as normal for westerner class – half foreigner, half local. Khmer karaoke video blares out from a TV at the front. Cargo pays more than people, so we stop frequently to pick up all sorts of boxes, sacks and bags from remote villages. Going south, the rest stops don't have the fried Tarantulas you get on the way north. Instead I have more bread and watermelon (another first) and make a baby cry by saying hello to it. Some things are the same, no matter where in the world
Just after lunchtime I jump off in dusty Kampot. Just around the corner from the bus stop (it’s not a station!) is a street full of guesthouses; I end up at Orchid Guesthouse, in a little bungalow over a swamp. Fuck the Mosquitoes; I’ve got 7 huge Geckos living in the room to eat them for me.
I hire a Scooter and proceed to mooch around the town. Small but busy by Cambodian standards, it has streets full of old French homes, some refurbished and turned into boutique shops and restaurants, others left to rot after the Khmer Rouge decided it wanted the country to revert to the Stone age.
I cross the old bridge, a mixture of styles and materials – again thanks to those lovely folks who followed Pol Pot. They decided to keep blowing up. Now it’s been rebuilt, and makes for a lot of fun riding over it.
This is pretty much all I do for four hours and a whole tank of fuel. Most of the roads here are in a terrible state – it’s like the surface of the moon, pot holes galore
I pick myself up, wheel the bike back to the guesthouse. Thankfully my backpack, jeans and hoodie have taken the brunt of the impact. However I have a deep cut on my right palm and my left elbow. It’s so deep it’s taken some of my tattoo off clean (a month later I visit my Tattooist in the UK. He calls me a massive twat and bans me from Motorbikes). I’ve got blood everywhere. I shower, throw some alcohol from my medkit (be prepared, Kids) on the wounds, scream and collapse into my bed. All I really care about is telling the bike owner I’ve fucked it. I sleep like a baby that night.
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