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!|