On Monday about two weeks ago I headed to Sihanoukville for a week-long staff retreat. Though we were staying within a five minute walk of the beach, the weather was horrendous for the entire week, save one afternoon when the rain held off for long enough for a pick up game of soccer on the beach. So instead of sticking around Sihanoukville for the family portion of the retreat (Thursday night to Saturday), I headed for Kampot on Friday morning for a weekend of relaxing and eating.
The two-hour minibus ride along the coast and with Bokor Mountain in the background was beautiful and uneventful. We arrived in Kampot town shortly after ten and I began wandering around looking for a moto. For once, there weren’t any to be seen. As I walked away from the river towards the market, it started to rain. Finally finding a willing driver, I headed back towards the river in the direction of Les Manquiers, our guesthouse for the weekend. Once outside of Kampot, the road immediately turned to slick red mud. After a few kilometers of bouncing along, we came to the guesthouse, behind an iron fence and amid much greenery.
The setting was beautiful. Two large wooden houses, a few gazebos and a series of about eight wooden bungalows with thatch roofs lined the river amid beautiful gardens and large mango trees. I checked in for the group of about fifteen that was expected to show for the weekend, and was shown to a three-person bungalow with a wonderful view of the river and Bokor National Park. Immediately after unpacking, the pace of everything slowed considerably and in the best way possible. Relaxation took over in a way I had not yet experienced in Cambodia. I read for a few hours on the porch while it absolutely poured before returning to the main house for a delicious plate of fried rice with shrimp, some bananas, and some phenomenal banana pastries hot out of the oven. My hearty meal was followed by an equally hearty nap.
At around 5:00, most of the crew for the evening, mostly NGO-types, arrived. They settled in and then we all met at one of the gazebos that stuck out over the river for the first of several consecutive happy hours. Over the course of the evening we cleaned them out of big bottles of Beer Lao, about twenty bottles the size of forties. By 9:00, an unbelievable array of food was brought out: salad, shrimp, fish, pork tenderloins, and fruit for dessert. With excellent food and drink (and decent company) we hung out late into the evening.
Radios blaring at full volume. It was 6:00am and a parade of fishing boats headed upriver for a day of fishing. I wasn’t ready to be awake yet, but it didn’t seem like I had a choice, so I popped my head outside. It was gorgeous. The sun was rising behind the bungalows and its glow covered the river, the brightly-colored boats passing by, and sections of the mountains beyond. I threw on shorts and a t-shirt and walked down to the river to enjoy the beautiful surroundings.
After going back to sleep for a bit, I headed back to the gazebo to read. A long table was set and I joined one of the others for a beautiful breakfast spread: fresh baguettes, jam, marmalade, peanut butter, chocolate spread (even better than Nutella), fruit salad, fresh orange juice, coffee, and tea. We sat for hours as others straggled from bed for breakfast, to read, and to chat. By late morning, and after several days of sitting around in Sihanoukville, I was getting a little stir crazy. The rain had stopped and it appeared it wouldn’t start up again for a while, so I took a kayak out and up river. As I fought the deceptively strong current, I passed a wedding and a school and came upon some mangroves. It was incredibly creepy paddling into them – it was deathly silent and there was no sign of activity of any kind. I paddled deeper and deeper until there was nowhere else to go but back, half expecting a snake to lurch towards me at any instant. I continued upriver until it looked like it was going to rain. Not until I started going downriver did I realize how strong the current actually was. It took a fraction of the time for me to get back that it took me to go upriver.
When I returned, most people were in the exact place that I left them. A few people jumped in the river to swim, and to our amusement, went nowhere despite their best efforts to swim against the current. By the time we had our light lunch we were joined by a few more people. We spent the afternoon reading, chatting, napping, and sipping on glasses of red wine. Pretty rough day.
The wine flowed into the evening and I taught the minority of men to play cards (one of the few redeeming qualities of the retreat was learning to play Cambodian-style cards). We played until we were presented with another phenomenal meal. Again, heavy on seafood, with fish, shrimp, and a delicious dish of beef and fresh green beans. And again, we talked late into the evening.
We slept in late on Sunday and were again greeted by a wonderful breakfast. We reluctantly packed up our stuff and drove off to Kep for lunch. Though none of us were hungry, we stopped at one of the seaside shacks that have made Kep and its crabs famous. We had some delicious crab with Kampot black pepper (supposedly the best pepper in the world) as well as some squid with the same pepper and honey. Not a bad way to end a wonderfully relaxing (and delicious) weekend.
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