Since I last wrote, our travels have taken us through Sihanoukville, out to the island of Koh Kong Saloem, on to the very Khmer city of Battambong, and then to Siem Reap.
Since I last wrote, our travels have taken us through Sihanoukville, out to the island of Koh Kong Saloem, on to the very Khmer city of Battambong, and then to Siem Reap.Leaving Kampot was difficult; like Kep did two years ago, the villages around the city had found a place in my heart. But it was time to move on, so we boarded the bus to Sihanoukville, my mind filled with preconceptions about the notorious party town.
It didn’t disappoint. Even the “quieter” beach strip of Otres was filled with one bar/restaurant after the next, offering 50 cent beers and happy hour specials to 20-something (and by that I mean 20-and-three-months) backpackers who were already deep into the after effects of their “happy herb pizza.” I didn’t recently become too old for this; I was born too old for this.
Stoner culture aside, Otres does offer moderately-priced rooms and a lovely stretch of beach with warm shallow water, which was a pleasant surprise, but overall our room was average, our food was average, my thoughts on Otres are distinctly… average.
Fortunately for us, we only had to spend one night out there because we had a 12pm boat trip to Koh Rong Saloem (or Samlem or Samloem, depending on which sign/book/poster you read) the next day.
After a bumpy ride that, much to my surprise, didn’t result in anyone “feeding the fish”, we arrived on the island, gratefully received our free welcome lime juice under the shade of the thatch roofed bar, and took our bags and key down the sandy path to our home for the next three days.
Hammocks on the porch! Wood, not bamboo walls (less chance of mice)! Two queen-sized beds (meaning we could use one for our bags and not worry about ants)! Attached bathroom! A mosquito net on a frame (so it hung properly over the bed)! It was all looking pretty good. The island has “no power” (read: the bungalows have no power but the guesthouse’s main building does and they just keep that a bit quiet) for 18 hrs a day, so there was no fan, but we knew that ahead of time.
The island can be crossed in 20 mins and word has it that there’s a white sand beach on the other side. We wouldn’t know. We were pretty darn content with the 600m of squeaky golden stuff staring us in the face every morning. We spent our days waking to the susurration of the sea, not 25 metres from our door; lounging on the beach; working our way through several of the books weighing down my pack; playing gin and Guess Who, which I haven’t played in about 16 years (note: “Can I see hair on the top of your head?” turned out to be an impressively efficient question); and swimming in water clear enough to give the Maldives a run for its money. Our snorkelling endeavours revealed the edges of the bay to be alive with an awesome variety of tropical fish in a range of sizes. It felt like I’d gone swimming in my sister’s fish tank – until I was surprised by a box fish swimming perilously close beneath me. She doesn’t have any of those suckers…
We debated extending our stay by a day, but decided that two and a half days on the island would be perfect; the island, while beautiful, was largely devoid of cultural references (the menu being a partial exception) and we remarked that we could be on any beautiful beach in the world. Cool, but we wanted to be reminded that we were in Cambodia.
During our stay, we got chatting with a German couple who chose to honeymoon in Cambodia for two weeks (such a cool idea!), and learned that, like Rich, Jana is rather prone to seasickness. On the way back to Sihanoukville, Dennis and I exchanged glances and laughs each time the boat rocked, just to see who was going to have to deal with a fish feeder first, but were both – make that “all” – relieved when the waves gradually lessened.
With the sea calm and Dennis I no longer laughing with one another, I spent much of the remainder of the journey back to the mainland with my legs stuck through the bench rail, smiling as my feet dragged through the sea each time the boat swayed to port side. Our “holiday from our holiday” was at an end.
Back in Sihanoukville, we had nine hours to kill before we caught the night bus to Battambang. We were quite badly in need of cash and confusion turned to frustration when machine after machine declined our cards. After seven tries, we got a tuk tuk and headed further afield in search of a Canadia Bank (nope, not a typo). Good ol’ Canadia will give anybody money, it seems.
Lunch had potential to be boring – did we want Russian food? French? Swiss? “Western”? Khmer food, it seems, is frightfully difficult to come by on the main strip near the Sihanoukville port. What ISN’T hard to come by, though, are those stoned 20-somethings, but that’s another story altogether. In the end, we found a decent little spot that served adequate, if not delicious beef and vegetable noodle soup, along with some delectable little frogs’ legs (and I do mean “little” – twenty five or more of the little suckers must’ve been massacred just for our starter) with ginger and lemon. So good that I’m still thinking of them!
Still left with more than six hours to waste, we knew we wanted to be in a spot where we wouldn’t have to be reminded of our location. If Russell, in New Zealand’s Bay of Islands, is historically known as the “hell hole of the South Pacific”, then I would hazard to say that Sihanoukville, with its “massage” parlours, stoned kids, and complete lack of any cultural identity, is the modern hell hole of the South China Sea. We parked ourselves in a bar/pool/restaurant that turned out to be overrun with some seriously dodgy backpackers. It was with huge relief that we spotted our German friends when they happened to walk in, so we shared a few rounds and then looked for a pre-night bus feed location. Sandan restaurant gets rave reviews on Trip Advisor, so we thought we’d find out more for ourselves. We asked a tuk tuk driver where it was and he offered to drive us. I should’ve known something was up when he dropped his price from $5 to $1.25, but we were in a bit of a hurry, so we went with it. No word of a lie, he drove us around the corner and five doors down the street. If it hasn’t been for his hilariously maniacal laugh when we pulled up, we would have been pretty angry. As it was, the four of us shared a laugh with him and everyone left without any hard feelings.
Dinner was simply spectacular. Being a teaching restaurant, the service was nearly impeccable and the food was incredible. Banana flower salad, beef salad, and pork loin rolled around young coconut strips all chased down with coconut and lime daiquiris, followed by a turmeric crepe filled with caramelised pineapple and served with vanilla ice cream, black sesame seeds and tamarind syrup. All for $25. Heaven.
We parted ways with our new friends and headed for the bus to our next destination: Battambang.
Grateful for: peace and quiet
