Nominally Phnom Penh

Snail shells shine in the unshaded nightly light. The remains of a deep fried frog lay greadily on the small red plastic plate, and the egg embryo I just ate is working its eggy way down my gullet, to be digested.

It is our first day in Phom Penh. We survived the mammoth seven hour bus journey from Siem Reap, the narrow cratered roads and the rigors of that vehicle's narrow chamber of torture, laughingly referred to as a toilet.

To save us all from terminal boredom,  or is that sleep,  the bus crew bombards us with a selection of films, shown on a single screen, at the front of the bus. Due to the rockiness of the roads, and the quality of the videos/video player, all we eventually get is a succession of half viewed Jackie Chan films.

We arrive, and immediately want to sort out accomodation. We need somwhere to lay our weary bones, stretch a little and generally get the kinks of travel out of our racked bodies. We ask art teacher Seney, who is along for the trip, to help us, and end up in a small hostelry called the Sinh Foo Guesthouse.

Sinh Foo Guesthouse is right by the river. Our room has a stunning view of that river and strolling tourists but, sadly, no tea and coffee making facilities. The room is two flights up, threatening to give me daily exercise, and make me healthier. I shiver at that possibility.

All I seek is a simple burger.  My tongue needs a break from fish Amok. The alure of escargot (snails) and the other Cambodian night food, drag me to sit down at the roadside, under a partially open green tarpaulin. The blue hatted proprietor seemingly enjoys practicing his English on us. He is extremely helpful and jovial, this is why I sit with empty snail shells, remains of some bird embryo and deep fried frog on various small dishes before me.

My wife, as usual, gathers attention by watercolour sketching. Neighbours, staff and passersby all stop to watch her weave her painterly magic. Soon a crowd has gathered to watch, chattering away in Khmer. One small girl, with silver coloured bangles, is fascinated with the rhythm of brush to water, to paint to paper. Eventually, the crowd began to disperse.  Staff go back to work, others leak away into the night, including the two blonde English girls wanting a supper of snails.

We are here to attend meetings, to discuss sponsorship for our charity Colors of Cambodia. A friend has very kindly given us contacts for tomorrow.

In the very slight cool of the Phnom Penh evening we walk back, then across the busy road to perform a romantic promenade by the riverside. Five minutes breathing in the river's stench and we high tail it back to our hotel for a night without tea or coffee.

In the morning, a rising sun paints the immediate sky a pastel pink, and washes the whole riverside in Van Gogh blue. At breakfast we are kindly reminded - one more cup of coffee not free.