It was lunchtime and I decided to put his cooking to the test. Sipping an iced watermelon juice, I was impressed by the scope of the menu. I ordered a deliciously rich and piquant goong ob woonsen " baked prawns with glass noodles, cooked with herbs and dark soy. The seafood in Phnom Penh is astonishingly good. The prawns were sweet and meaty, and the noodles were the colour of mahogany. Graham Greene and Norman Lewis, both habitus of the club in its former incarnation, would be astonished to find that these days the food alone makes the FCC worth a visit.

The FCC is more than just a good bar and restaurant though " it is an institution, a meeting place and a bolt-hole of sanity, if not always of sobriety. Keith Quinn was the US Ambassador during the coup of 1997. On 7 July that year, Hun Sen, the leader of the Cambodian People's Party (CPP), overthrew Prime Minister Norodom Ranariddh in a brutal, bloody coup. Two days of fighting left at least 58 people dead. The coup started on a Saturday. On Monday lunchtime Quinn filed his report to Washington saying, 'The FCC is open; things must be returning to normal.'

The FCC currently operates a small but comfortable hotel, with just seven rooms. In keeping with the colonial style of the bar, the rooms have dark wood floors, flagstone bathrooms and ceiling fans, and are stylishly but sparsely furnished. On the walls are the stunning panoramic photos of the river by the English photographer Paul Stewart, another resident of Phnom Penh. All rooms have a terrace and a dramatic view either over the river or the impressive National Museum. Despite suffering exhaustion after a 14-hour flight from London, the lure of the water festival was too strong to resist and I wanted to get down in among it, to taste it, to smell it, to touch it.

-On the street I was struck by how young the population is.

More than half of the 13 million Cambodians are under 19 years old. They are fascinated by the sight of a 6'4', big-nosed European on their turf. Despite the fact that Cambodia is a very easy country to enter (you buy your visa at the airport on entry, for $25), the sight of a tourist is still something of a novelty in Phnom Penh. 'Hello " what is your name?' they giggle as they pass. Every once in a while, a schoolgirl, emboldened and intoxicated by the festive atmosphere, touches my nose for luck, as if it is a supremely holy relic sent by a foreign dignitary to honour the festival.

Wandering away from the river, into the heart of old Phnom Penh, the nostrils are assailed by the familiar smells of Asia " a combination of spices, jasmine, incense, sewage and exhaust fumes. A family of five balanced on a single motorcycle is so commonplace that it no longer warrants the desperate scramble for the camera to record the scene. In fact, seeing a mere three on a two-wheeler seems positively wasteful and decadent.

Each night after the dragon races are done and darkness falls, eight colossal illuminated barges are towed into position on the river, to the raucous din of xylophones and gongs that blare from tinny speakers positioned the length of the riverfront. The temperature of the crowd rises in anticipation; some of the revelers shimmy along in a sinewy serpentine conga line, and the end of the day is heralded by a spectacular firework display. As the full moon rises, thunderclaps, starbursts and rocket flares tattoo the night sky. The xylophone music never lets up.

Next morning, the riverfront is all but deserted and hidden under a humid cloud cover. The frenzy and euphoria of the preceding three days and nights have gone and the city is returning to its workaday normality " the ferry boats and fishermen are plying their trade on the Tonle Sap again and the whole town is 20 decibels quieter.

Sipping a coconut and lime lassi on my balcony, I wonder how the mass exodus had taken place last night. Driving north for my next destination, Siem Reap, to visit the World Heritage site of Angkor Wat, I found the answer. For every 20 people crammed into a minibus, there were another 20 clinging to the roof, along with the motorbikes, baskets, food and carpets they bought on the trip. They were returning home to their villages in the far-flung provinces of Cambodia, up towards the Thai and Laotian borders.

The drive from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap opens the view to the Tonle Sap from time to time, its gently picturesque, past stilted houses and endless verdant paddy fields, until I reach the small town of Skoun. This stop-off is famous for one thing " the local delicacy is a tarantula-like spider, cooked in a gloopy, sweetish sauce. A woman approached my car with a trayful of the creatures. I was encouraged to try one " the legs are like meaty balsa wood, the head rather crunchy. Only the aficionado eats the abdomen.

Siem Reap, I checked into one of the countless hotels that are being built all over town. The road from the airport is lined with shiny new hotels announcing 'Soft Opening " special rates'. It is beginning to look like Las Vegas. Siem Reap is gearing up for a massive tourist influx. With the heart-meltingly beautiful 12th- century Angkor Wat as the jewel in its crown, there is every chance that Cambodia will soon emulate the popularity of its neighbors Thailand and Vietnam.

The Hotel de la Paix is one of the more stylish hotels at Siem Reap. This a swanky 105-room art deco treasure trove. Part- Theban palace, part-ocean liner, it is the most luxurious of all the new top-end hotels. It 'soft-opened' in July, and while it is not yet up to speed (only one in every five of the rooms was booked during my stay), it offers a standard of accommodation and a level of service many Western hotels would do well to emulate.  Designed by Bill Bensley, known for his work for the Four Seasons hotel group in Asia, the rooms are coolly modern, and come with handcrafted lamps, intricate wall-mountings and fine linen. Every room has a DVD player, wi-fi internet connection and an iPod that guests may take with them on excursions.  The communal Art Lounge has a vast bar, lit by fibre optics that bathes the room in alternating soft, soothing pink and green light. On one wall, films are projected without sound. The exhibition of artworks changes monthly, and always in some way reflects Khmer culture.

Pursuing the theme, this Siem Reaps hotel's Meric Restaurant features Khmer cuisine, cooked by the highly rated New Zealand chef Paul Hutt. Roots and tubers, flowers, small fish, wild honeys and herbs are all traditional Khmer foods, as well as more than 1,000 varieties of rice. At a Khmer gourmet evening I ate steamed maan (fermented fish) with Khmer crudits, krill (the tiny shrimp that is the staple of any discerning whale's diet) and V C ambarella (something between a quince or crabapple) salad, and stir-fried frog with basil. Every dish was delicious, subtly flavoured and aromatic, and presented with real attention to detail.

Like new hotels the world over, the Hotel de la Paix sets great store by its spa, and boasts a swimming pool, gym and a wide selection of treatments and yoga classes. The FCC Angkor "the sister hotel to the Phnom Penh FCC " was also a wonderfully relaxing place to stay between visits to Angkor Wat and the other temples in the vicinity.

Recently, there has been a proliferation of boutique and luxury hotels in Cambodia "fuelled by the demand for high living at prices that are, by international standards, low. Chatting to Anthony Alderson in the funky first-floor bar of the FCC Angkor that overlooks the Siem Reap River, he told me, 'We are selling an oasis here. For $100 a night we offer designer quality at an affordable price.'

For a few dollars more, you can try one of the treatments from the hotel spa. I chose the 58 Stones one, where polished black basalt stones from the Grand Canyon are heated and placed on the muscles, then used to massage legs and feet, back and shoulders, arms and hands, and head and neck. The whole process takes an hour and a half, and is like being bathed with warm honey. The games room even has a black pool table made by the legendary Brunswick Company in Cincinnati " '97 per cent accuracy on the cushions,' said Alderson proudly as he cleared the table. Just my luck to find the rogue 3 per cent while I was playing.

Next door to the FCC is a Cambodian art gallery and curiosity shop owned by the 41-year-old Anglo-Irish traveler Jerry Swaffield, who arrived in Cambodia two years ago, via Bangkok and the Philippines. He is an illustrator by trade, and at 15 was the second-youngest artist ever to draw for The Beano. Who was the youngest, I asked the wiry Swaffield. 'Bob sodding Monkhouse,' he replied with a wink.

As well as illustrations, Swaffield makes 'assemblages of junk', which he refers to as 'scraptures'. These bizarrely beautiful objects are part fetish, part totem. Linger in Swaffield's gallery for an hour or two, and many of the transient characters crisscrossing Cambodia will almost certainly drop in for a coffee or a smoke. I waited a mere 40 minutes before Peter O'Sullivan, who had played bass guitar with my band in the 1980s, walked into the gallery. After spending a suitably dissolute youth, Peter became involved in the landmine clearances in Cambodia and now leads tours with his company, Wild Frontiers, to Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam. Astonished to see him after so long, and in such unfamiliar surroundings, I asked what on earth he was doing here and he answered, 'Where else would I go " this is the only place to be!' And, in a way, he was right.

TRAVELLER'S GUIDE

GETTING THERE

You cannot fly direct between the UK and Cambodia; the main gateways are Bangkok, Kuala Lumpur and Singapore. The lowest fares are likely to be with the national carriers: Thai (0870 606 0911; www.thaiairways.co. uk) from Heathrow, Singapore Airlines (0870 608 8886; www.singaporeair. co.uk) from Heathrow via Singapore, and Malaysia Airlines (0870 607 9090; www.malaysiaairlines.com) from Manchester and Heathrow.

STAYING THERE

FCC, 363 Sisowath Quay, Phnom Penh (00 855 23 210 142; www.fcccambodia.com). Doubles start at $55 (pounds 31), including breakfast.