For almost a decade, Pol Pot and his posse called Anlong Veng home. Today, it attracts few visitors as it's somewhat out of the way, and not on the way to something more interesting - that is unless you are a Khmer Rouge history buff. Our view of the town itself was somewhat obscured by the timely veil of darkness that greeted us on arrival. Like many other towns in Cambodia, the dusty streets were scantly lit. The odd fluorescent bulb gave us a glimpse of some random food stalls, pigs rummaging through garbage on the street, and silhouettes of locals reclining back on their scooters while observing the two, newest arrivals in town. With some difficulty we managed to get directions towards one of the two guesthouses in town. A man wearing nothing but a towel outside of the first one greeted us. He was rather pushy and insisted that we spend the night. We insisted on looking around some more. It wasn't until we found ourselves under the bright fluorescent lights of our room that we discovered we were literally covered with orange dirt/dust. We were both sporting Frida Khalo uni-brows, and everything from our panniers to our bikes was orange. After some cold showers, we realized there was no dinner to be had as all restaurants closed early.