Picture South East Asia and what do you think of? Sun soaked beaches, cocktails in coconuts, serene Buddhist temples? …

Although magical all year round, South East Asia is usually associated with scorching temperatures and sunshine to match. The period from June- October however, is the wet season throughout the majority of the region which means hard and fast rains are common.

A desperation to explore this part of the world and a lack of annual leave, saw me embarking on a trip in the middle of August and crossing my fingers. So far, we had been blessed with blue skies and high humidity, but less than a week into our adventure, the promise of a luxury island getaway was shattered after some strong wind submerged our next destination Koh Rong, underwater.

Sitting at a table in the reception of our hostel, sweaty and tired from the wanderlust high, roaming around Phnom Penn, I stared out at the gaps between the buildings on the street. Slate grey clouds mangled with dark black, leaving only small gaps for the glint of the sun.  I was prepared for this of course, but it still didn’t help quash the crushing disappointment of losing the beach days I so desperately craved. I could practically taste that coconut cocktail…

Luckily, travelling as part of a tour meant we were able to make alternative arrangements far quicker than as a clueless solo traveler and our guide M gave us two options. We could either stay longer in Phnom Penh or move onto a small-town Kampong Cham, closer to the Vietnam border crossing.

The French-colonial style buildings and vibrant night markets of Phnom Penh had been a treat but after a few days here we felt ready to move on and see something new. As a result of the last-minute change of plan, my expectations for the new destination were low.

Located in the south east of the country and home to the majority of Cambodia’s Muslim population, Kampong Cham is a slice of authentic Cambodia. Running tightly alongside the Mekong, a walk down the main promenade, with its colourfully painted colonial buildings and Chinese shophouses, is like stepping behind Cambodia’s curtain.

As it is much smaller than its more popular neighbours, Kampong Cham avoids the huge swathes of tourists but enjoys a rich cultural life. The laid-back easy pace in this town breeds vibrant night markets and independent street food stalls.

Upon arriving, we decided to take part in a bike ride around the area and in a strange twist of fate, it seems we were in fact visiting an Island; Koh Paen. Except instead of the white sandy beaches and the crystal blue of the Pacific, this one was surrounded by the muddy waters of the Mekong and a clay coloured dust track.  

Having not ridden a bike since I was about 11, I approached the rickety frame of the two-wheeler tentatively. I promptly tested the brakes which seemed to have a minor effect on the back wheel…

I swerved and wobbled slightly as I tried to gain speed, wrapping my knuckles tightly around the worn rubber on the handlebars and keeping a cautious eye on the motorbikes hurtling towards me.

We passed thatched- roof huts, interspersed with colourful shop fronts, selling food, drink and nick naks. Scooters and bikes weaved around us carrying single women, groups of friends and couples with small children. Helmets bobbed like apples in water on their small heads, cradled tightly by their mothers. Despite a lack of comprehensive road rules, the patient nature and laid-back attitude of the Cambodian’s created a system that just worked and bizarrely felt completely safe.

Passing over a bridge we entered Koh Paen, a previously French colonised island which housed a traditional rural village. The wide paved boulevard, traced the water’s edge like decorative trimming. Grey water buffalos and brown cows passed nonchalantly by us, the bells tied around their necks chiming with each plodding footstep.

As we cycled deeper into the small island, flashes of the water’s edge emerged between gaps in the trees. One upside of the wet season is the tropical rains bring a green paradise, the plants grow tall and the leaves swell with moisture, taking on a dark metallic green colour. So far this was not what I was expecting.

It seemed that the rice fields and open land went on for miles until the leader at front of the group took a sharp left turn towards an open clearing. A large temple stunning in white and embossed with gold and red came into view, golden patterns and swirls were carved in exquisite detail. I’d seen many temples already whilst in Cambodia but I was completely taken aback at such a surprising placement of grandeur amongst the agrarian landscape.. (of course I stopped to take a photo).

On an empty stretch of grass, just beside the temple, a group of children were playing a game with their flip flops; the aim seemed to be to use your shoe to kick your opponent’s flip flop until someone misses. We watched them for a while until one of the boys in our group briefly took off his own shoe and joined in their game much to their excitement.

We continued on past thatched-roofed homes, built on stilts, with hammocks drawn between the two posts. Groups of the children ran from their homes and waved excitedly at the chain of bikes passing by them, bringing with them a chorus of little voices, ‘hello, hi, hi!’ I greeted them and tried to wave back but lost balance and nearly toppled over. There was a reason I didn’t take the stabilisers off my childhood bike…

7 miles into our 12-mile stint, and feeling exhausted, we stopped for a cold drink, some jackfruit and mini bananas (Cambodian bananas are the best). I looked around again at the village life, it’s easy to romanticise such a beautiful and unique place but it must have it’s own struggles. Affected heavily by the Khmer Rouge regime, Kampong Cham has fought hard to rebuild itself whilst benefitting from relatively low levels of tourism. It was hard to see why, Kampong Cham definitely seemed like an undiscovered gem that had all the ingredients a visiting backpacker could want.

Later that evening, we headed to the night market to sample some food. Endless rows of meat, fish, noodles and sweet treats lined the perimeter as we chose somewhere more permanent to sit down. It seemed that tonight was party night as a stage was set up in the centre of the market floor showcasing a live band who played dutifully for a largely disinterested local audience.

The lead singer proceeded to dance around the stage, jumping up and down with excitement.

‘At least they seem to be enjoying themselves’ I joked.

We were perhaps the only tourists in the entire market but I felt suitably at home in the eccentricity.

On our way back to the hotel, feeling full from a bowl of noodles, Dom suggested that we drink some leftover beers from the boat cruise we had taken the day before. The promenade here looked not unlike the South of France, were it not for the TukTuks that lined the streets, the night was still as we walked towards the inviting glint of the Mekong.

We approached a bench overlooking the river but found it dirty so glanced around for another perch. As if summoned and hearing of our struggle, a waiting TukTuk driver dashed from the other side of the street with a cloth in hand. He promptly wiped down the bench, produced two red plastic chairs seemingly from thin air, placed them down on the ground, smiled and nodded at us. I gawked at him, taken aback by the act of kindness.

The last few hours in Kampong Cham were spent bonding with my new friends, swapping travel stories and tales from home. I realised I felt more relaxed and at peace in this small corner of East Cambodia than on any tropical beach.

Sure, the inordinate beauty of Angkor Wat and the captivating history of the Killing Fields were unforgettable, but it was the beauty of this small town and hospitality of its people that made me fall in love with Cambodia.