There’s such a lot of world to see

As the bus wound its way to the south coast and the promised land of white beaches, Matt and I exchanged nervous looks as the rain continued stoically. Trying to bolster our mood, I got manic at the first ray of sunshine and giddily shouted, “Blue sky!” in the style of a mother encouraging a toddler. Matt was dutifully impressed, and admitted it was a good spot. Sure enough, the closer we got to the sea, the bluer the sky became and the rain dried out.

And, wow, isn’t the sea a joyous thing? Quite apart from the fact that I won’t swim in it (SHARKS! They don’t like us! They eat us – I heard a bloke got eaten in Brazil just recently – they don’t want us in their house. To go in the sea is to gatecrash the sharks’ party and they, understandably, get narked, and so eat us. Frankly, it’s just plain rude of us not to stay out of their house), I find it an amazing, restorative place to hang out. I’m a true beach girl, and can – and do – happily stay there all the day long, just reading, dreaming, people watching, and working on my tan which, I’m sure you’ll be relieved to hear, has made its long-awaited reappearance. God bless those rays. I can completely empathise with people who need to live near the sea. Maybe I’ll join them there one day.

We were staying at a new place called Monkey Republic. Eddie had told me about it on the last night in Moskito, and I told Matt about it on the bus although, by that time, a combination of the Long Vodkas and Too Little Sleep resulted in me only remembering the word “Monkey”. I tried out various other combinations, “Business…Banana…Ing Around”, but none of them rang a bell. So the plan was, we would get a moto driver, shout “Monkey” at him, and hope he would take us to the right place, rather than punch us in the kidney. Fortunately, we were resolved our shame, because there was a rep waiting at the bus stop.

The nice people there give you a free beer on check in, so we supped that and eyed the sky cautiously, glad to see that it was getting a bit brighter. Monkey Republic is a good place to stay, although, as Matt asked me when we got to the beach, “Do you think they’re all on happy pills?” It had a touch of the “we’re all one big happy family and we do everything together and now we want you to tell us your name, where you come from, and two true things and one lie about yourself and we’ll all guess which is which!” Fortunately it never got to this extreme, as our suggestion would have been, ‘1. I came to Cambodia to score heroin, 2. I came to Cambodia to pick up ladyboys, 3. I have two heads. Over to you, folks!” Still, it was young and friendly.

That first afternoon we set the tone for the rest of our time there. Sitting on the sand, enjoying the hoardes of children that would just come and, after asking if you want a postcard/sarong/fruit/water/massage/hair off/manicure, even when you said no thanks, would then just drape themselves over you. Most of them were very cute, including one girl who guessed exactly where we were from; “You’re from England”, she pointed at me, “But he’s from Canada”. Little genius. I carried on the numbers game tradition that Brad had started up north, and was amazed by some of them. “Me: 6 times 8 is…” Them: “48” Me: Erm, hang on a sec…. erm… 32,40, yep, 48! Matt, being a harebrained daredevil, would swim and brave the sharks, while I watched the stuff, waved from the shore, and kept a beady eye out for fins. You never know…

At night we took a walk back down to the beach to eat, and ended up in a lovely place called the Bayon Bar, where we both had amaaaaazing barbequed fish, so fresh and delicious. It was a great, welcoming place, and, being the party animals we are, we started a Scrabble Tournament. Matt won the first one (JUST!), the next night I won the second, and I don’t want to talk about the third, and deciding, match on our final night. Let’s just stop talking about it RIGHT NOW! YOU HEAR ME?! It was so deeply relaxing – good food, a few drinks, good company. We ended up staying till the wee small hours of the morning. The bar is owned and run by a Canadian ex-pat, Roger, who was an interesting and inspirational person to chat with, so many, many, many hours and drinks later, we stumbled back up the hill to the guesthouse.

Sihanoukville is blessed with lots of beaches, so on our second day, we hired a moto (don’t worry – Matt drove, and drove very well. I do think he has a death wish though as at one point I joked, “Do you want me to drive?” and he replied “Yeah, sure, if you want to”. I backed away in fear). This gave us loads of freedom, and we ended up on a lovely, white, deserted beach that was a tad rough around the edges, but that’s just because it’s completely undeveloped. Here we reached our zenith, as we constructed, in sand, a model (I like to think it was to scale) of Angkor Wat. It was genius, even if I say so myself, and as we left it there on the beach, I like to think that, hundreds of years from now, a French explorer will go back to that beach and rediscover it.

That night was the England v Sweden match, being shown at 2am Cambodia time. We went back for more barbequed fish (and just to remind you all, I won the Scrabble that night), and about 10pm, went back to the guesthouse for a nap. I’m sure you can see what happened next. Matt woke me up at 12 midnight, and my reply was along the lines of ”I’m not going anywhere”. So I missed the match. I know, I know, don’t shake your head in disgust, I’m ashamed of myself, as well.

The next day was, you’ve got it, more of the same. Beach, Bayon Bar, a small, insignificant game of scrabble that I am NOT TALKING ABOUT, good times. I thoroughly enjoyed my days on the beach, and one thing is for sure, it won’t be too long before I’m back on the sand.

After my thought provoking sightseeing day in Phnom Penh, I was really glad to bump into Matt, from the boat to Battambang. We chatted over food (after the harrowing day, I was aching for comfort food, so you can imagine my delight when I saw that the Lazy Gecko did both mashed potato AND apple crumble – not together – two of my all-time top comfort foods). We then headed down the road to the lovely Moskito Bar, run by the lovely Eddie. It’s only been open a couple of weeks, but it should do well, for a few reasons. Eddie is a great guy, and makes everyone feel welcome. He’s got a good spot for the bar – right by the lake, which is the emerging backpacker area in Phnom Penh (but not so much that it feels like Khao San Road). Most importantly, though, he makes a drink called a Long Vodka. I used to drink these by the bucketload back in my uni days in Aberdeen, back when my liver was as young and forgiving as I was, but soon realised that you can’t get them outside of Scotland. After a few attempts to talk a barman through making them, I gave up and had forgotten them entirely until I was chatting to Eddie. I had found my mecca.

(For those of you wanting to share my joy, here’s how you do it. Put a couple of icecubes in a tall glass, and add a few drops – just a few – of Angustora Bitters. Swirl the ice round the glass a few times, then throw them away. Put more ice in, a shot of vodka, a large dash of lime cordial, and top up with lemonade. Trust me, it’s a drink of gods and goddesses. You’re welcome).

It’s most definitely rainy season right now here in Cambodia. Usually that means intense heat and sun most of the day, followed by an hour or two of heavy rain in the afternoon. However, it’s being taken to extremes in Phnom Penh, and we had two solid days of the heaviest rain I have ever seen in my life. The road running by the lake is being surfaced (I asked Eddie if it was being resurfaced and he said, “no ‘re'”), so all is mud and, when it rains, the mud gets very deep indeed. We splished and sploshed up to the bar, settled ourselves in, and, several long vodkas later when I left, it was still raining, though the rain seemed to matter less.

The next day, Matt and I decided to go for a walk along the riverfront, such a nice part of Phnom Penh. It actually reminded me of Colombo, as there are verdant green patches of lawn lining the river walls, punctuated by antique lamp-posts – very much in the style of Galle Face Green in Sri Lanka. Stopping for lunch was an experience. Not so much into the customer service at this restaurant – the waitress wrote our order on her hand. To experience the other side of the coin, we ducked across the road for a drink in the Foreign Correspondents’ Club (FCC), a gorgeous, old institute with massive comfy chairs, not-too-extortionate beer, big old ceiling fans, and lots of geckos. Actually, everywhere in Cambodia has lots of geckos, it was sort of comforting to see that the FCC gets them as well. The rain still hadn’t let up, though, and it was so much fun to go wading, ankle-deep, through the puddles, and see the cars and bikes up to their middles in the really deep ones. It’s times like this that emphasises how far Cambodia has to go, infrastructure-wise; the drainage system was just so slow and ineffective that the water took an apparent age to drain away.

After a quick spot of shopping, we headed back to the lakeside, and arranged to meet up later in the Moskito bar, already my local, and it was ace just to be able to say: “Can I have the usual, please, Eddie?”

Matt and I were both heading next to the same place, Sihanoukhville on the South coast, so it made sense to go down together. We’d booked a ticket for the 8am bus (somehow, he seemed less enthusiastic about this than I did), although when I rolled out of Moskito at 3am, having to get up at 6.30am, even I started to question the wisdom – or otherwise – of my early-bird-ness. Still, against all odds, both of us were packed and ready to go and, even though they didn’t collect us when they said they would, which had me virtually hyperventillating, but we made the bus, and the journey – amazingly – passed without incident. Except the film shown on the bus, of which, the less said the better.

So that was my first farewell to Phnom Penh. However, I’ll be passing through there at least once, very probably twice more before I leave Cambodia, so already I’m looking forward to going back. Those long vodkas are calling.

Here are a few recipes from my cooking class. I'd really urge you to try them, they were veh, veh easy and scrumptious at the same time. If you are observant you will notice that the first recipe, ... [Continue reading this entry]

Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn!

This Robert Burns quote became a resounding echo in my mind on my first full day in Phnom Penh. I'd arrived the afternoon before, and got a highly bargainous (and thankfully bug-free) ... [Continue reading this entry]

Booking the boat from Siem Reap to Battambang was a little bit of luxury. Or that was the plan, anyway. It cost three times as much, and took double the time, of the bus, but I'd heard amazing ... [Continue reading this entry]

My mother is a wonderful woman.  Apart from raising two intelligent, charming, and astoundingly good-looking offspring (so I know at least Michael is on my side in this post), she is talented and can turn her hand to pretty much ... [Continue reading this entry]

As soon as we got to the guesthouse in Siem Reap, we had a much-needed shower (I know ladies don't sweat, so suffice to say I was glowing like a carthorse), and arranged a tuk tuk to take us to ... [Continue reading this entry]

"To travel is better than to arrive".  So said someone, once (I want to say Robert Louis Stevenson, but I'm not 100% sure, so don't quote me in an exam).  Whoever it was, they have obviously never made the journey ... [Continue reading this entry]