The return trip from Phnom Penh to Battambang is quite straightforward, but it still requires a bit of patience. Expect around 5 to 6 hours by bus or minivan, depending on traffic and stops. The price is usually between 10 and 18 USD, and you can book directly at hostels, local agencies, or online through platforms like 12Go Asia.
Arriving in Phnom Penh means stepping back into a completely different energy. Louder, denser, faster. And for my last 24 hours in the capital, I had the chance to meet James again, a friend I met during my first time here. It felt a bit like reconnecting with a reference point in a constantly shifting journey.
We decided to take time to eat together. And honestly, I had a very specific craving: real fast food. Not just a quick snack, but a proper juicy burger with an American vibe. James took me to Belly Burger, and I have to say it clearly: if you’re in Cambodia and craving a burger, this place is a gem. The burger was absolutely incredible—juicy, flavorful, exactly what I had in mind. Yes, it was expensive for the country, but it was totally worth it.
After that, we walked through the streets of Phnom Penh on foot, without much of a destination. We watched the city live around us, the small details of everyday life.
We even passed by hair salons set up directly on the sidewalk, right on the street, with simple chairs and mirrors hung everywhere. James told me that for him, it was completely normal. But he also laughed and said that in his eyes, Canada was missing a bit of that spontaneity, that improvised and lively side of public space. And honestly… I understand what he meant.
James is someone deeply kind. Ambitious too, but not in an aggressive or rushed way. He has more of a quiet growth energy, someone who moves forward with care, who is genuinely interested in others, who listens a lot. He has this very human, very open side, and at the same time he is very grounded in his reality. What I particularly liked about him is the way he takes time with people. He doesn’t just “show” you his country, he lets you experience it through his eyes. He explains simple things, habits, street corners, details you wouldn’t notice on your own. And on a trip, people like that completely change your experience. They give you access to a deeper layer of the country, more intimate. I am truly grateful to him for sharing a bit of his culture, his city, his daily life with me. And also for the laughs, the conversations, the simple moments. It’s exactly these kinds of encounters that give meaning to travel. These people who, without really realizing it, accompany you for a part of your journey.
But that last night in Phnom Penh… let’s just say life had other plans for me.
I had an HORRIBLE night. There was a guy in the dorm who was snoring at an absolutely unreal intensity. Not a small, subtle snore. No. A sound level that could have rivaled an engine. It was constant, deep, impossible to ignore. At one point, even a girl in the dorm tried to wake him up because it was so unbearable. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone snore that much in my life. Anyway, a very short, very chaotic night… but also a final memory that is quite faithful to hostel reality: between beautiful encounters, good moments, and completely absurd nights that we end up telling with a smile.
Cambodia wasn’t just a simple stop on a map. It’s a country that slightly shifted me out of myself, in the best way possible.
At first, I arrived there without really having expectations. And even more than that: almost without any clear images in my mind. Cambodia was one of those countries I didn’t know well, that I hadn’t idealized, nor really projected anything onto. I didn’t really know what to expect, and in a way, that might have been the best way to enter it. Very quickly, I understood that traveling here required a certain level of letting go. Cambodia doesn’t unfold in a simple or perfectly organized way. It’s not like Thailand where everything is designed for tourism. Getting around can be long, unpredictable, sometimes a bit chaotic. The roads are rough, schedules are flexible, transport changes at the last minute. Even the logistics of daily life—booking a bus, finding a connection, understanding where to go—require a constant form of adaptation. Nothing is fully linear, and you have to accept not being in control of everything. But it’s precisely within this disorganization that travel takes on another shape. Because in the middle of these sometimes exhausting journeys, of these slightly blurry days where you wonder if you’re in the right place, moments emerge without warning. Encounters, conversations, simple gestures that suddenly bring everything back into balance.
It is also a country that reminded me that behind every travel scenery, there is a much more complex reality. Nothing is just beautiful or just difficult. Everything coexists. And that is exactly where it becomes interesting.
I’m heading to Laos with fewer certainties, but more curiosity. And maybe that is exactly what Cambodia left me with: the idea that travel is not there to give you answers, but to teach you how to love the questions more.
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