111108 – Home stay to Sihanoukville

111108 – Home stay to Sihanoukville

Today was meant to start at 0645, supposedly it would be breakfast at the Eco-Tourism park and then the walk to the waterfall deep within its boundaries. However, I do not doubt that the extra carton of beer from the night before had some say in the activities of the morning.

Sometime before dawn, Id started to get cold and for some reason thought my mosquito net was a sheet. Waking up several hours later, I found myself half covered by its protective layer. Readjusting it and unfolding the blanket, I was soon much more comfortable. The alarm clock at 630 was the sound of pigs squealing in delight at their breakfast and a couple of roosters competing for dominance of the yard.

Getting downstairs at about 7, I waited with Andy Bailey and Paul. Paul retreated into his music player before long and Andy started engaging the local kids. Taking photos and playing little games, he seemed to be a real hit. One of the little boys was showing everyone his favourite toy, a long stick with a Y-branch on the end and a tin can mounted between its points. He truly loved it deeply and was very proud of it.

I got out my camera out and both Andy and myself took some photos of the little crowd of shy, smiling faces. Leaving him to his audience, I went over and started trying to talk to the farmer. Using simple words, I showed him photos of Mum and Dad, Stephanie, Jenny and me. We managed to talk about our families and farms using no words more than Mamma, Pappa, Big, Small and Pig. We took photos of each other with the farming tools and his little property.

Leaving Nee to get back to fixing his motor bike, I waited with the others. The bus arrived about half an hour late and Andy took a snap of me with the farmer and his wife. I quite enjoyed this little encounter with the locals, there were too few opportunities to have such moments without being drenched with tourism rubbish.

The bus ride was the same as yesterday, we made it to the bridge and walked the rest of the way. A breakfast of bread, egg and onion omlette, bananas and suprisingly excellent instant coffee was waiting for us. A little cold from our lack of punctuality, it was an excellent breakfast and I certainly felt much better for having eaten. I think I was alone in my opinion of the morning, there were some seriously bad moods in the group and roaring hangovers.

Yesterday, there had been a fair bit of excitement at the suggestion of going to the waterfall. That attitude had reversed today and it was a struggle to get enough of us for the guide to be included. Katie, Paul, Matt, Vickie and myself were the only participants.

There was a very acceptable path the whole way through the forrest and it was an incredibly beautiful walk. It was still too early for any of the vendors to have set up their little stands for visitors to buy drinks and snacks from. Our guide was quite friendly and spoke incredibly legible english, though his vocabulary definitely needed some more work. It was several kilometers to the waterfall, the last one was through the mountain itself. The guide gave me the Eco Tourism speech that I am sure he had been given in training. In the background was the sound of a nearby river, the mix of trees, vines and bamboo painted a poetic picture as we progressed. The hill itself was a pleasant climb, the path was well marked and there was a fair bit to see.

Climbing up and down the folds of the mountain, the sound of the waterfall began to grow louder. The forest had turned into something like a rain-forest as we descended the last set of stairs. Mist hung heavy in the air and there was moisture on everything. Vines and creepers had been trimmed of their barbs for the benefit of travellers to the area, suddenly we were there. The Waterfall broke through the trees in an amazing panorama, we made it down the last few steps and were standing nearly beneath it. The great roar of an impossible volume of water pounding down the 40 metres onto the rocks below, such force dashing the water up into the air in greatt drifts of mist. There was no real pool at the base, simply rocks that seperated the little torrents of water. Continueing to follow the suggestion of gravity, these torrents rushed around the surrounding rocks and formed small rivers sprinting down the slopes and off into the forrest.

Still cautious of my knee, especially after the effects of my brush with food-poisoning, I stayed near the stairs while the others climbed out on the rocks. The amount of water in the air was impressive, all of them were saturated before reaching the particular view they desired. Soaked to the bone, with they great cascade above them, I looked on with envy while they took photographs and lingered for a while.

Their minds filled with waterfalls, we regrouped at the base of the stairs and started the return journey. This was a little slower than the walk before, those in the lead frequently stopping for those behind. Soaking wet, with the temperature and humidity on the rise, it would be a very squelchy trip back. Most of the group had worn flip-flop sandals, now a problem as the spiders and bugs of the region started to warm up and look for breakfast. There more than a few squeals by one of the girls as creepy-crawlies fled for cover.

At first in the front, then dropping back. I eventually walked with just the guide. One of the girls hadnt appreciated me teasing her about the wisdom of wearing thongs with spiders about, two of the other travellers had began a comparative analysis of PhotoShop. The guide and I walked in a mix of silence and his attempts at teaching me Khmer. We smiled and waved at the Cambodian travellers and local stall owners on the trip back. I took my time and for the first time, for a long time, felt like I was ACTUALLY travelling. Travelling, rather being a spectator on a Contiki Shag-Fest.

I was in a much better mood when I got back to the group. We all said our goodbyes and took photos with the locals. A few minutes later we were back at the bus and off to pick-up Sat and Miff, who had opted to sleep in. The obligatory throwing around of bags to make seating available was all that delayed our departure.

Heading out of the village, we passed children playing at the bridge. Squealing in delight and waving madly as we drove past and took photos, some of them tried chasing the bus or just jumped up and down and laughed. The rest of the trip as a whole consisted of snoozing, daydreaming out of the window, dropping of the esky from the night before, more driving and chilling out. We were told it would be about 2 hours to get to Sihanoukville.

After dropping the esky off at the little shop from the day before, I assume we took a different route to head to the sea. It was a long drive and everyone was still more than a little tired.

About halfway through the trip, there was a noise and a sudden sluggishness of the bus. Pulling over, the driver and Kevin got out, an inspection of the tires revealed the driver-side rear outer tire had blown a wall. Having Duals on the rear wheels meant we could progress on to the next market-place to get it repaired. Im not sure if they might have had the facilities on the bus, I somewhat doubt it.

Driving at a crawl for the next 20 minutes, we arrived at a little road-side complex. Consisting of an open fronted, corrugated iron shed and a small canteen a dozen metres off to one side, it was a simple afair. We disembarked to make use of the cheap drinks at the canteen while the workers set to the task. The shed had the familiar smell of mud, oil, grease and animals. The appearance and feel of the building and the equipment housed within it could very easily have been directly transplanted from any one of a hundred farm-workshops that I have been in. It was uncanny and made me more than a little nostalgic, the machinery and structures of this place were so much like that I grew up with. Even the humidity, temperature and feel of the place could easily have been an misserable overcast Pingrup day in Autumn or Spring.

Having completed their duties, Kevin passed on that we could get back on. We finished our chilling out at the canteen, gulped down the last of our cold-drinks and grabbed bottles of water. It would be another hour and a half to the Beach.

The rest of the drive was mostly unremarkable. We passed a couple of mansion complexes that had been long since deserted. There were one or two resorts showing signs of neglect as we got closer to the coast. The main feature of the road had been the high walls found along random stretches. Walls that had not been filled in at the base (started at head-hieght) or were missing metal work to fill in the top. The solid fences were only along the road, the rest of each perimeter might be ring-lock, bamboo or non-existent.

We saw the ocean first while crossing over a hill, we were finally within reach of our destination. There were more impressive buildings, Kevin relating some stories regarding the owners and influential people who were involved. Sihanoukville itself appeared to be remarkably spread out, there was an impressive amount of construction taking place and the giant vacant lots seemed to be placeholders for future development.

Pulling in next to a giant roundabout with two gold-coloured statues of lions, we had arrived at our hotel.

Disembarking and checking in, the concensus was to have half an hour to shower and freshen up. Then, lunch.

Paul and I were mercifully in a groundfloor room to the back of the complex. Smelling faintly mouldy, it had air conditioning and was more comfortable than much of my previous accomodation. We dumped gear, cleaned up and went back to the front office.

Lunch was at a restaurant where Kevin knew the owners. Promptly seated and ordering fruit-shakes, we marvelled at the menu of western and local food. Hearing the words It comes out in a coconut, I followed our guides suggestion and ordered the Chicken Amoke. There were more than a few orders of cheeseburgers, various fish-dishes, so on.
The fruit-shakes were gone, the plate of deep-fried shrimp that Matt orderd as an Entre had been eviscerated. The food was taking a little while to appear.

Finally, the wait was over.. Indeed, it DID come in a coconut. The top had been cut in a circle and was used as a lid.

WOW...

I mean... WOW WOW!!!

Chicken Amoke is remarkably similar to a Thai Red Curry. A little more subtle but with a hint of extra bite, it was a singly most delicious meal that I would not soon forget. Foregoing fork and spook, the first taste resulted in me dumping half of the rice directly into the coconut. Stirring it around with the little laddel I had been provided with, I ate it straight out of the great round fruit. The little laddel was an excellent eating implement, well suited for the task, allowing me to offer the occasional dip to my friends. There was a mix of wonder and jealousy in response, I have the sneaking suspicion that many more of this particular dish will be ordered in the future.

Lunch done and check completed, we moved en-masse to the beach. It was a short walk up the hill, past a number of internet cafes, bars and restaurants. Dozens of Tuk-Tuks and motorbikes called us to hire them, a smile and wave of No had them moving on with no hard feelings. At the top of the hill, we continued straight. The sealed road curved to the left and we followed the gravel street straight down the hill. Passing little shops that sold cloathing, music, hair-cuts, swimsuits and the like, we stopped off to buy a frisby, tennisball and volley-ball. Passing a couple of hotels and restaurants, there was a little dodge between some close buildings that marked the end of the gravel. Suddenly, we were on the beach.

Stepping onto the sand, there would be litterally a hundred little bars and cafes stretching down the coast. Everything from small hotel complexes and guest-houses, to shanties that had a bar at the back. Chairs and seats dotted the narrow stretch of sand between establishments and water, one place even had a little tree-house out the front!

We started walking along, looking for inspiration. It was only a minute or so before footwear came off and we waded through the water. It was beautiful and warm, clear and tranquil. Before long we came to an establishment called something like Musslies. It had free pool and a series of tables with comfy-chairs condensed out of thin air, it was a sign. Also, it was Happy Hour.

Dropping gear with the non-swimmers, they ordered drinks and most of us dived into the surf.

Ive had baths colder than this.

The water was as wonderful as it had been alluring from the shore. We swam around and games started soon enough, the cheap frisby paying for itself in short order. Diving about, there was nothing that could be faulted about the place. Heading in after a suitable time, we sat on the great round chairs with their deep cushions and dried in the sun. Beer was $0.50 and cocktails were all $1.50.

To our great delight, about an hour into our chill-out session, Kevin appeared with Sophie in tow. She had just arrived and had been sorely missed by the group as a whole. She took a spot in the group and we all started to play catch-up. Andy B was especially happy to see her, they were quite close and he was glad to get his watch back.

The next three hours was spent lashing out, there would have been at least 4 Mojitos and just as many beers to fill the time. The cocktails were strong enough to strip paint, doing a wonderful job at accompanying the sun disappearing into the overcast sunset. Most of the group was taking Doxycycline to protect against malaria, which also acts to make you a cheap drunk. Letting my hair down, I didnt fly quite as far below the radar. The snarkier members of the group quickly found out that my sense of humour was not as bland as Id been broadcasting and suitably sharp conversation had a couple of the others thinking that had to get me tipsy more often :p

As the time passed, the urchins appeared. Most of the group haggled to get knotted wrist bands that had the Cambodian flag featured in it. Watching them made, while entertaining myself with another Mojito, we were all suitably impressed. There were the promises on both sides to seek each other out to Only buy from me!! or to seek us out to sell other gifts. Finally it was time for dinner and we wandered around until we stumbled on the restaurant that Kevin had negotiated for us.

We were a little disappointed on being seated. The owner had decided to increase the prices for us and it was only because of the reservation that we didnt go elsewhere. We got the owner to drop the price of the drinks to be the same as the other bars, which he was not overjoyed about. The meals were $3.50 instead of $3.00, not a lot but it was more than we had been promised. Some of the group made a point of only ordering food that was $3 or less, to prove the point. I lashed out the extra $0.50 for the Fish BBQ as recommended. It was a fair assortment of squid and fish when it arrived. Back home it could have cost as much as $20-30 for the same meal. Drinks were had and in all it was entirely acceptable.

Having had my fill of Mojitos, fish and beer, I decided prudence might the order of the evening. I was getting towards the end of my course of Cipro for my tummy and didnt want to push it. Also, as is customary for such amazing holiday situations, I was starting to miss Jenny and started to feel like an early night.

Paul and I made our way back to the hotel, the walk was much the same as this afternoon. A pause was required for footware and a lot of fending off enthusiastic Tuk-Tuk drivers. Most of the establishments on the road were still open and active. This was a resort town, tonight would be a big night for most of its occupants.

Back at the hotel, I think Paul swapped out some gear before heading back to the beach. I made use of the shower and had the early night I had promised myself.

Today had been a good day, I really needed a good break in a place like this.