Sihanoukville

After a good, hard week of work, and with Shanti just back from two days in a rural village, we decided to take off to Sihanoukville (known as Kompong Som to most Cambodians), a port and beach town in southern Cambodia.

The town itself has a mixed reputation among expats as it is not very aesthetically appealing and is somewhat rife with seedy Westerners. That said, the sprawling Sihanoukville offers up the best beaches in Cambodia (on the Gulf of Thailand) and serves as a good launching point to Ream National Park, a beautiful marine park boasting hundreds of bird species and an excellent day trip. Irrespective of its reputation, we were excited to get out of town for a long weekend (Monday was a holiday here celebrating the king's coronation).

We arrived shortly after 6:00, with our impression of Sihanoukville off to an inauspicious start. We directed a moto driver to a guesthouse we picked out with our guidebook. We quickly realized, however, that our moto driver was not taking us to the guesthouse we desired, but to one that pays him to take his customers there. We told him to take us to the correct location or we would find another moto driver (there were plenty around). He refused, unless we pay him double what we agreed to, so we walked on, without paying him, as he protested. After a short walk and as the sun was setting in the then unfamiliar Sihanoukville, we found a fantastic moto driver (English-speaking college student named John) to take us to the right spot. We checked in to a rustic guesthouse where we got our own A-frame 'bungalow' (I'm using that term very loosely here) complete with bed, mosquito net, and rustic, sinkless bathroom. Once settled, we set off down a dark and somewhat sketchy road toward a handful of restaurants ending up at a very nice one with the calm waves of the Gulf of Thailand lapping at the deck of the restaurant.

After a good night's sleep and a bit of early morning wandering, we checked out of our mediocre accommodation and decided to take a boat to one of the islands a little ways offshore and in the Gulf of Thailand. It was, perhaps, the best decision we made all weekend. For just a few dollars each we took a 45-minute boat ride to Bamboo Island (Koh Russei), 10km from shore. On the way there we passed a number of smaller islands and quite a few dilapidated and surprisingly seaworthy fishing boats. As we got closer, we could see a beautiful sandy beach lined with a handful of wooden, thatch-roofed bungalows. We hopped out of the boat and waded to shore along with four Spanish tourists who were also on the boat. It was gorgeous. Exactly what you think of when you think tropical paradise: isolated, soft, sandy beaches, clear aquamarine waters, tons of palm trees, and a few huts and fishing boats here and there.

Instead of remaining content with this, however, we followed the tip of a Kiwi we met at the airport in LA on our way here, and trekked over to the other side of the island. It was a short, ten-minute walk on a dirt path through the jungle (sadly it felt like more of a jungle trek than our actual jungle trek in Bokor). After passing a small and seemingly oddly placed Royal Cambodian Armed Forces (RCAF) base, we emerged into pure bliss. A long, soft, sandy beach, a few thatch huts (including a small restaurant) ,and blue sky and water as far as the eye could see. We checked in to our own cute little rustic beach bungalow (an actual bungalow this time) with beds, mosquito nets, snorkel gear, a small porch with hammock, and a view that invites you to stay forever. Besides the small family running the restaurant and bungalows, we were the only ones on this side of the island. We hopped in to the beautiful water, jumping over surprisingly big waves and even riding a few in. The water was a bit cloudy, so our snorkel gear was a bit useless and somehow while swimming, I lost my mask (a $2 fee I was willing to fork over upon checkout).

Unfortunately, the afternoon became quite windy (I would guess 50mph gusts), so we retired to our bungalow for cards and books. It cleared up after a little bit and we headed back in to the water. It was glorious. Our own tropical paradise. After we'd had our fill of beach and water, we rinsed off in the communal shower and went to over to the restaurant to break Yom Kipur fast (Shanti had joined me in fasting). Though a bit pricey, the food was fantastic - I had steak and french fries and Shanti had pasta - and the setting was idyllic. There was a magnificent sunset as we ate and played cards. Exhausted and stuffed, we fell asleep to the sound of the waves crashing ashore.

We woke the next morning to rain, which, in its own way, was quite beautiful. It poured; the wind howled and visibility was reduced to near nothing. When it stopped, we strolled down the beach, picking up shells, watching small crabs scamper about, and stumbling upon a small reef which was uncovered by the low tide. The sun finally came out and I decided to explore the water a bit more with snorkel gear. Borrowing Shanti's mask, I went out into the water. I put the mask on and dipped my head under water only fifteen or twenty feet from shore. Immediately, I saw something. Black and white, a little smaller than a football, it was an octopus! I yelled at Shanti to rush into the water to catch a glimpse. She didn't believe me. When she finally made her way in, I couldn't find the octopus. I managed to track it down though, and there was a second witness to ensure I wasn't seeing things. Trading the mask back and forth, we fought a surprisingly strong current to see perhaps a dozen different kinds of fish and some beautiful coral, but nothing as exciting as that octopus. For the rest of the trip, we kept saying 'I can't believe we saw an octopus!'

Within a short while, we had to go back to the other side of the island to make our boat back. We relaxed in the sun and explored a bit until it was time to leave. The water, though still calm, was a bit rougher than the day before and we got absolutely soaked on the way back. Instead of staying in the same place we did the first night (which was mediocre and a bit isolated), we opted to stay in a place in the town center, which, also mediocre, was at least better located. Hungry, and eager for a filling, satisfying meal, we walked over to a place called "Happy Herb Pizza" - I don't know what the deal is with all the restaurant references to weed - where we had a fantastic meal of an Italian sandwich, a calzone, a beer (for me), and a glass of wine (for Shanti). On the way back to the guesthouse, we stopped and got badminton equipment; it's all the rage here and, well, we were itching to take part (AND Shanti had been bragging about her expert badminton play quite a bit...I promise an entry on this within a few days).

Our final morning in Sihanoukville was rather uneventful, though we had a delightful breakfast at a place called The Starfish Bakery and Cafe. It's operated by disabled women and set in an oasis-like garden; I had some of the best French toast I've ever had and some incredibly fresh pineapple juice for just a few dollars. We also got some deliciously huge cookies for the bus ride back (one chocolate chip and one peanut butter). Keep an eye out for my next post on badminton, it's coming soon.