Sad Farewell to Cambodia

It was with heavy hearts that we packed and prepared to leave Cambodia. We truly loved our time there and would have stayed longer but for the fact that our visas expired the next day. Sof picked us up at 10:00 AM to driver us the 1.5 hours to the newly opened Vietnamese border crossing at Na Tien.

P- I feel very sad to be leaving Cambodia.

G- Me too. The way this country and its people have touched us is inexplicable. I don't think I could ever put it into words, but I feel my soul has been changed by my time here.

P- I do too! I am very glad we got our tattoos here. Cambodia will always be with us.

G- I agree, and we have to come back here again. Maybe when Connor finishes medical school he'll want to volunteer in a clinic here and we could join him.

P- He would love it here and he loves working with kids. These kids would steal his heart.

G- Remind me to tell him that. Now I see why Angelina adopted a Cambodian child.

P- Isn't the first child she adopted Cambodian.

G- I think so, after she was here filming Tomb Raider. Maybe we can return and teach English or work in an orphanage.

P- I'd like that.

We spent our last little bit of time in Cambodia waiving to kids, watching people go about their daily lives, and of course, getting coated in red dust. About a mile from the border we were swarmed by motorcycles, driven by men yelling to us in Vietnamese.

P- What the hell are they saying?

G- I have no idea, but I think we're already in a tuk-tuk. Ignore them and they'll go away.

P- I think they intend to follow us to the border.

Sof drove us to the end of the road, literally, the end of Cambodia, and stopped at the cross bar. As we attempted to unload our bags and tell Sof good-bye, the motorcycle drivers yapped endlessly about driving us to Na Tien. They wanted $5.00 each to which we scoffed. We had paid Sof $15.00 to drive us for an hour and a half and they wanted $5.00 to drive us for 10 minutes. Sof intervened and told them it was too much but they would not relent. We declined their offers and walked to the wooden hut next to the cross bar where a Cambodian agent checked our passports and directed us across the street to a window. There our Cambodian visas were removed and our passports were stamped with the exit date.

The motorcycle drivers were still there when we turned around, and to our surprise, so was Sof. He smiled at us and again negotiated with the the motorcycle drivers until they agreed on $5.00 for both of us. We were touched that he stayed to help us and thanked him profusely, waiving as we rode the approximate 100 yards, of no man's land, to the Vietnamese border. Whereas our crossing from Thailand into Cambodia was long, hot, and arduous, our crossing into Vietnam was as simple as walking through a building. The motorcyclists dropped us off on one side of the building and drove, with our packs, to the other side.

We entered, completed the health questionnaire and paid our $1.00/each to have the agent press a digital thermometer to our necks and confirm that we did not have fever. We put our day packs through the scanner that no one was watching, and handed our passports to the Vietnamese agent to verify and stamp.

P- Tell me what sense it makes to have us put only the bags we're carrying in the scanner when our big packs were driven around on the motorcycles.

G- It makes no difference anyway because no one was looking at the scanner.

P- And why did we just have to pay $1.00 each?

G- I believe that was the charge for the medical exam.

P- The what?

G- Having our temperature taken. Our medical exams. Who the hell knows.

P- Thank Gawd he didn't try to take our temps rectally.

G- I'd be in a Vietnamese jail!   Everything costs 1 dolla!

P- Not anymore, Vietnam doesn't use the US dollar, they use dongs.

G- I don't really care for that name.

P- Well get used to hearing it.

After passing the final guard building, and going around the cross bar, we learned that Vietnam requires all motorcycle drivers, and their passengers, to wear helmets. The ride to Na Tien took only 10 minutes and because we had no hotel reservations, the drivers delivered us to the 'bus station', a metal overhang, approximately a block long, with buses parked underneath. We hadn't even gotten off the bikes yet when.................

Man – You have hotel?

P- No.

G- You want to recommend one?

Man – You go to Can Tho?

P- Eventually.

Man – Bus leave in 30 minutes. You go to Can Tho.

P- We're not going anywhere now. Maybe tomorrow.

Man – No bus tomorrow. Holiday.

G- OMG! How many times are we going to be told this bullshit?!?!

He was still talking as we paid the motorcycle drivers and walked away. That didn't stop him from following us. As we walked to the 3 hotels we had seen around the corner 2 other guys began to follow us and ask the usual questions: where you from? you take tour? You go to this hotel. I cannot tell you how annoying and frustrating it is to have people swarming you and yap, yap, yapping while you're trying to orient yourself, carry your crap, and find a place to stay. It is by far, the worst thing about traveling through Asia, the relentless buzzing around you that prevents you from thinking or ever having a moment of peace while walking down the street.

We selected a room at the second hotel we viewed. It had air con, a mini fridge, and hot water in an en suite bathroom, and cost $10.00. The border crossing at Na Tien had opened only 2 months ago and it was evident that this town was unaccustomed to seeing western faces. We garnered many stares as we walked around town and found few people who spoke English. But it was a cute town, set on a river, with a vibrant market in a large yellow building.

We were strolling along the river, through an outside fruit & vegetable market, when a woman sat up in her lawn chair to stare at us. She looked me over, then turned her attention to Phyl which prompted a huge grin on her face. She pointed at Phyl's breasts, cupped her own and jiggled them up and down as she started to laugh hysterically. She turned to a woman behind her and jabbered something in Vietnamese, pointed at Phyl, and resumed laughing hysterically.


P- WTF?!!!!

G- That may be one of the rudest displays of ogling your breasts that I have ever seen and it was done by a woman and not a man!

P- I'm not sure if she was ogling or making fun of them, but why does she think that's ok?

G- I don't know babe, but you know Asian women have small boobs. Yours just freak them out.

P- Well, behavior like hers is totally rude, I don't care how small her boobs are.

We walked less than a block farther and came across the foul section of the market. Under separate umbrellas sat chickens and ducks. At first we thought they were dead, but they were very much alive with their feet tied so they couldn't run off. We stood, watching dumbfounded, as a man rode up on his motorcycle and selected a rooster which was handed to him by its feet. The seller held out a plastic grocery bag into which the purchaser placed the rooster, head first. The seller then tore a hole into the corner of the bag out of which the roosters head protruded as it, and the buyer, rode away on the motorcycle.

G- This trip is affording us the opportunity to live in the past, America's past, Asia's present. It's fascinating.

P- I guess that rooster was going to be dinner.

G- I don't know. If it was for dinner wouldn't he have selected a hen? Maybe he needs a mate for his hens.

P- Or maybe he needs a rooster for a cock fight.

G- Didn't think of that. That's one thing that's not the past in America. At least not in Louisiana where cock fighting is still legal. At least it was the last I heard.

P- I think it still is.



Where's the parade?

 It was hot as hell so we returned to the hotel to cool off. I took a quick shower, something my shaved head, and lack of make up, made exceedingly easy to do, and we relaxed for several hours. After dark we went in search of something light for dinner. The streets were packed with people strolling, shopping in the market, and eating at street carts. We were finding it difficult to find a place to eat due to the language barrier and because we only wanted soup. Finally we stumbled across 3 ladies sitting at a table, next to a street cart, on a corner. They were eating soup. We looked at the cart, then into their bowls. One of the ladies held up her bowl so that we could see what she was eating.

G- That looks good. Let's try it.

P- Ok. It looks safe enough.

We smiled at the lady and held up 2 fingers. She nodded and pointed to the table behind hers. 4 tables lined the sidewalk and 4 in the street. It must be said that these tables, and chairs, were the size used in kindergartens, and made of plastic. We sat down and our knees were parallel with our chests and the same height as the table. The other patrons of this restaurant looked at us as if we had 3 heads each. A man, presumably her husband, brought the huge bowl of soup to our table.



Soup for you!

 G- Let's see what's in here.

P- It's so dark, it's hard to see.

G- I see carrots, some greens, this tastes like a mushroom.

P- I've got chicken and noodles.

G- Yes, I have a piece of chicken too, but also, I think this is a piece of duck. What is this?

P- I'm not sure what that is. What does it taste like?

G- I can't tell. The soup is not bad, but it has a weird flavor. What do you think the stock is made with?

P- I hate to tell you this, but I think it has some kind of blood in it.

G- You think the funny flavor is blood?

P- Yes.

G- How about fish sauce or some other kind of strange tasting sauce we're not use to.

P- Think whatever you want, but I think it's blood. The books I've been reading about Cambodia and Vietnam talk about a soup that is made with blood.

G- Please stop telling me this.

Just then the husband coughed and spat on the sidewalk next to our table.



Paying Mr. Hock-a-Loogie



G- Ok! That does it. I'm done.

P- If the blood wasn't bad enough, Mr. Hock-a-Loogie just killed it for me too. That is disgusting!






It may not have been the best soup in the world, but it satisfied us for the night and we headed back to the hotel. We had only been in Vietnam for ½ a day and already we were seeing new and unusual things.



the snowball man



Look Ma, No Hair!

Sof, the tuk-tuk driver who had picked us up at the bus drop off point, asked if we wanted to go on a tour of the area and we arranged for him to pick us up at 10:00 am. Last night we had discussed things to do with the owner of Blissful, and he had even given us a map. Phyl ate a banana pancake and drank hot tea while I shared her tea and ate dry, knock-off, Frosted Flakes. We were a little wary of spending the day exploring the area in a tuk-tuk, so I swallowed 2 Immodiums and Phyl swallowed 1.




Kampot is durian capital of Cambodia



Sof's English was good and we showed him the map, confirmed the places we would visit, confirmed a price of $18.00 for the whole day, and off we went. He first drove us around the town a Kampot, once a French Colonial town, to see the remnants of French architecture. This didn't take long. We then headed east to salt flats. This is a large area, resembling rice fields, but instead filled with salt water from the Gulf of Thailand. The ponds are about 50' x 75' and shallow. The water evaporates in about 3 days time and the salt is then collected and stored in a large, wooden, salt barn. The pools were quite pretty and colorful shimmering in the sunlight.

En route to our next stop, a cave, we passed Sof's fishing village where her grew up. He now lives in Kampot with his wife and 2 year old son, but his family still lives in this village. When it's not tourist season, he still fishes with his family members. We stopped briefly at what he called a fishing village, but it consisted of 2 canals and approximately 8 houses. We turned off the main road and began the long, arduous journey down the severely rutted, very dusty, red dirt road leading to the cave.

G- Hey, I hope you've got that tuk-tuk-titty thing working.

P- I got it going on, Agnes.

G- Good, on this road you could give me black eyes if we're not careful. Did you see that “barber

shop” we just passed?

P- No, was it in one of those shacks?

G- Yeah. Typical one with a dirt floor and a barber chair. You've been saying that you're hot and you don't want to wait until Tibet to shave your head, so get your head shaved by that guy. It'll be more fun if he shaves it and not me.

P- Oh, you want me to shave my head now? Are you going to shave yours too?

G- Yes, I will too. You know it's something I've always wanted to do, but I am chicken, so you go first.

P- I see how you are. Ok, let's check it out when we leave the cave.

The road to the cave cut through a pretty little valley surrounded by low mountains. Some houses lined the road, but many others were placed randomly in the rice fields, surrounded by palm trees. Cows, chickens, and pigs lay in the shade under the houses. A school's morning session must have let out because the road was lined with grade school children walking and riding bikes. As we passed most of them called out, “hello
madam” and waved at us with huge smiles. This is something we have come to love about Cambodia, and we thoroughly enjoyed returning greetings, smiling, and waving back to the children. At one point 2 boys, around 10 or 11 years old, peddled as fast as they could to keep up with our tuk-tuk and have a conversation.

Boys – Hello Madam.

G & P – Hello! How are you today?

Boys – Good.

P- Are you going home from school?

Boys – Yes. Where are you from?

G- We are from America.

Boys – New York? Washington D.C.?

P- No, we're from New Orleans, but we are living in California. Have you heard of California?

Boys – Yes. California.



a short rest

 G- Your English is very good.

Boys – (smiling even bigger with pride) Thank you madam. Where do you go?

P- Now we are going to the cave.

Boys – And tomorrow?

P- Tomorrow we go to Vietnam. We have to leave Cambodia and we are very sad.

Boys- You are sad?

G- Yes. We love Cambodia very much and especially the Cambodian people. Everyone is very friendly, just like you. Can I take your picture?

Boys- (about to burst with pride) Yes! (They rode faster and smiled for the camera.)

P- It was nice to meet you.

Boys – Good-bye.



G- (to Phyl) I love these kids! It makes me so happy to smile and wave to them and tell them hello. They seem to get the biggest kick out of it too.

P- I love it too.

We arrived at the starting point for the hike to the cave and were swarmed with preteens offering to be our tour guides. Sof walked with us and we declined all offers, but ended up with 3 kids anyway. The 2 boys were typical boys and cut up with each other more than they guided us, but the girl was a very intelligent, petite thing who could even tell us the things growing in the gardens we passed.

Girl – This is mint, and that is basil.

P- What's that?

Girl – How you say in English..............small salad?

P- Oh, lettuce?

Girl – Yes, lettuce! (she was also making a joke because the lettuce was still new and small.)

We were shocked to learn that she was 10 years, she looked 7, and she lived in the village we passed through to reach the cave. She goes to school in the morning, then in the afternoons, to earn some money, guides tourists up to the cave. She even knew what stalactites and stalagmites were and could explain how they were formed by water. She was quite impressive.


It was extremely hot and the walk to, and the climb up the 200 stairs to the cave took quite a toll on us because of our dehydration from the night before. We tried to drink a lot of water, but Phyl was starting to feel nauseous again. Fortunately, we recovered in the tuk-tuk as we made our way back through the village, waving at the adorable and exceptionally friendly children.

We told Sof that we wanted to find a barber, and he stopped at the one we had seen on the way in, but that barber was closed for lunch. We returned to the main road and headed toward the pepper plantation. Along the way, Sof turned down a road leading to a village and stopped in front of a 'beauty parlor'. Of course we didn't want a beauty parlor, but were lucky to find a barber directly across the street. It took quite a while to explain to Sof, and for him to translate to the barber, exactly what we wanted done. Part of the problem was that even though the barber used a shaver, he had never put the guard on the shaver and actually shaved someone's head in a buzz cut.

Sof – He does not know what you want.



outside barber shop

 P- We want him to shave our heads.

Sof- Like he cuts this man's hair?

P- No, with the guard on the shaver. This thing is a guard.

Sof- We do not understand how you mean.

G- I will show him, then he can do it. Does he agree?




Sof – He says ok.

G- How much will he charge us?

Sof- He says $1.00 for you and $1.00 for you.

P- I don't know Gi, think we can afford that?

G- I believe so.






sugar cane juice




Several men sat in the 'barber shop', a tin structure protruding from the front of the man's home. His wife watched as she held their baby, joined by an older lady, presumably her mother. Once Phyl sat in the chair, people were coming out of the shops on either side and from across the street. We had become quite the spectacle. I clipped the guard to the shaver and began shaving Phyl's head. It did not take long for the barber to see what I was doing and figure out what we wanted. After her head was shaved, he made the motions for shaving her neck and we nodded in agreement. He made a big deal of showing us that he was putting a new blade into a straight edge razor, and cleaned up the hair on her neck. The crowd continued to grow as my head was shaved and neck cleaned. We posed for a few photos and off we went.



jackfruit



On the way to the pepper plantation we stopped at a road side stand where sugar cane was pressed into juice and poured over ice. It was a very tasty, and not too sweet, drink. While the husband pressed the cane, the wife was kind enough to give me a piece of it to chew. It reminded me of childhood field trips to the French Market where I would purchase sugar cane and chew it, on the bus, on the way home.

Good times! Good times!

P- I had no idea that pepper grew like a vine or in little bunches.

Sof- You taste.

G- Wow! It definitely tastes like black pepper.

P- Good thing, 'cause that's what it is.



pepper vines



G- I know, but it's still young and green and hasn't been dried yet, so I didn't expect it to taste exactly like the pepper corns I know.

Sof- Take photo with me.

G- Ok. Phyl, stand next to Sof. (After taking it, I showed him.)

Sof – Good.

Many things were grown on this plantation besides pepper. Sof showed us jack fruit trees, papayas, mangos, durian and cashew nut trees. We purchased a bag of pepper corn, for which Kampot is famous, and we headed back down the dusty road.

G- Look at the women sitting at the tables of that restaurant shack with all the pigs laying around their feet.

P- Big pink pigs!

G- That cracks me up! “Yen, would you get me some more rice? Be careful not to trip over my pig.”

P- Hahaha. I guess it's no big deal to them.

G- The next time we go up the road to eat dinner, we'll have to take our pig. She doesn't get out enough.



Kep means crab

 P- I was noticing she's getting fat. I think she needs some exercise.


G- You stupid!

It took another 30 minutes to reach Kep, but the beach road was closed. Not a problem! Sof yelled to a guy on a motorcycle who lifted the rope over our tuk-tuk as Sof drove under.


P- I hate those pesky road closed signs.

G- They're not intended for us. We'll just go around.

The road and seawall were under major construction as the whole area was being rebuilt. Kep had once been a hopping beach town during the French occupation, but had been destroyed in the war. Many shells of once beautiful homes still lined the road on the opposite side of the beach. In another decade, the area will likely be rebuilt and thriving with tourists and Phnom Penhers on holiday. For now, we were very happy that we did not save our beach time for Kep, as we had once considered, because the beach itself is very small, not very inviting, and doesn't hold a candle to Otres Beach.

We stopped at a restaurant, built out over the Gulf of Thailand, and enjoyed the regional specialty, crabs & Kampot pepper. We invited Sof to join us and we're thrilled to watch him enjoy a lunch he probably could not afford. Just outside the restaurant's window we could see crab traps holding our lunch, and a man in the process of pulling them further into the Gulf because the tide had gone out. That's what we call fresh crabs!!


Sof dropped us at our guesthouse by 5:00 pm and we got his address so that we could send him copies of the photos we had taken. His address was unusual in that we were to put his name, the name of his village, Kampot, Cambodia. He was very excited that we would write to him and insistent that he will get our letter addressed as indicated.

P- What do you think happens............ the letter is sent to Kampot, then the mailman just brings it to someone in the village who sends word to Sof that he has a letter?

G- I guess. I assume that it would be big news if Sof got a letter from America. The whole village would know it.

P- We did see the village and it's not very big.

G- It's just hard to wrap our brains around, but I have no doubt that it was like this in “the olden days” in America too. Back before communities were so large and people didn't even know their next door neighbors.

P- I guess so. Come to think of it, I have never seen anything that looks like a mail truck or anyone who looks like a mailman.



gas stop from Pepsi bottle



G- The whole town of Siem Reap only had one post office, so I don't imagine that Kampot has more than one. Maybe there is no mailman. Maybe word is sent to Sof's village and he has to go pick up the letter.





Our stomachs were still ok after eating that risky lunch and we were not going to risk eating dinner, so we spent the evening watching TV in our clean, air conditioned room and tried to prepare ourselves for Vietnam.

disco cigarettes!

Happy Valentine's Day

Jou

We still had the virus when we left Mien Mien on Valentine's Day. It was a very sad day and we hated to leave paradise, but all of our friends had already gone.  We were ready to get out of the dirty beach shack, and we had had enough of Mien Mien's horrible service and bad attitudes.  However, we were going to miss the sweet Cambodian beach workers.  We had arranged transport, through Jou, who assured us that we would be picked up from Mien Mien, at 12:30, by a van.  We wanted to avoid the rock road in a tuk-tuk, and going over the hill, with all of our stuff, even on 2 motorcycles, was out of the question.
At 10:00 Molly had her cleaning bucket on our porch and was pacing.

P- That girl had better not step one foot in this room before our 12:00 check out time! She has not cleaned our room 1 time in 2 weeks, even though we asked her to several times, and now she's going to pace around like she can't wait to get in here and clean.

G- It's just par for the course at this place.

P- I'm glad we're leaving here today.

G- Me too. I'm ready to go and sleep in a clean room, with clean sheets, air con and to not have to sleep in the mosquito net cage.

We went next door to Ritchie's and got egg salad sandwiches and cokes.  At exactly 12:00 we removed our belongings from the hut and waited under one of the 'cabanas'. A tuk-tuk showed up at 12:10 to pick us up. Gladys, always worked up on travel days, especially those involving a bus ride, and already not feeling well, had her anxiety dial turned up to 20!

P- Where the hell is Jou? She assured us that a van would pick us up. I'm not paying extra for that tuk-tuk!!

G- Here she comes now.

P- Jou, what's up with the tuk-tuk?

Jou – I don't know. Wait.  It's ok. It's ok. (she spoke to the tuk-tuk driver).  He say van driver ask him to pick you up and take you to town and he will pick you up there. He is late.

P- And we're not paying for this tuk-tuk. It's included in the price of the ticket right?

Jou- Yes, no pay more, no pay more. It ok.

P- Alright. Thank you, Jou.

Jou- Ok. Bye. 

Even though we had stayed at Mien Mien, we had bonded more with the beach hawkers.  The Mien Mien crew was quite an odd, unfriendly bunch.

G- Hold your titties, Gladys. We must be running late because this mofo is going fast over these rocks.

P- I'm ok. You know how you develop sea legs when you've been on a boat for a while? Well I think I've developed tuk-tuk-titty. I've found a way to sway with the bouncing that keeps them from knocking my teeth out.

G- Well, isn't that nice?!

The tuk-tuk driver made a phone call, then dropped us off in front of a hotel.

Driver – You wait here. Van will pick you up in 15 minutes.

P- He knows where we are and he'll get us here?

Driver – Yes. You wait here. 15 minutes.

G- Ok. Thank you.

P- (to me) Great! We're just being dropped here and how do we even know if the van is going to come pick us up?

G- Gladys! Stop it with the crazy talk. The van is coming to get us. You know this is how things work here. Stop being paranoid.

P- I'm just saying, what would we do if he didn't come to get us?

G- Then we will have been screwed, but we would just get on a different bus. Calm down.

P- Ok. You know I hate riding on these buses.

G- You make it way worse in your head than it really is. Stop thinking! You're working yourself up.

P- No, I'm not making it worse than it really is!  They drive like maniacs!  Way too fast on these 1 and a 1/2 lane roads.

G- On the day that we're intended to die, we will die. Now let it go. There is nothing you can do about it.

Luckily we were approached by a comedic tuk-tuk driver who struck up a conversation with us about, of course, where are we from, where have we been, where are we going. What's even more bizarre than a total stranger asking us all of these questions, information which is none of his business, we always answer them. It's a strange Asian travel thing. This temporarily took Phyls mind off of the impending bus ride.

Sure enough, just as we were told, the van pulled up, albeit 15 minutes late. Already the back compartment was full of backpacks, so I sat in the first seat, next to 2 girls, and held mine between my legs with my day pack on my lap. Phyl got into the middle seat, next to a Frenchman, and stacked her backpack and our large black bag at her feet. (Because we have been unable to mail stuff home, we are carrying an extra bag of stuff, and it is very heavy. We have got to off load this bag because it is impeding our traveling.) The back seat held 3 Australian, college age, bafoons who talked, loudly, the whole trip of being drunk, trying to get laid, and taking drugs.

At our next stop we picked up a man who sat in the passenger seat and kept his backpack between his legs. All the seats were filled, but we made a final stop and took on another man, whose backpack was shoved in the rear compartment and his seat, a plastic blue chair, was placed in a space next to Phyl's bench seat. Thankfully, we did not pick up anyone else.

The drive to Kampot, east of Sihanoukville, was pretty smooth. We put our ipod on to block out the sound of the college age baffoons and watched the green countryside go by. I looked back frequently to make sure that Phyl was ok, and she seemed to have calmed down. The bus driver was not speeding too much and was keeping the honking down to a minimum. The poor bastard on the blue, plastic chair had it the worst because his seat would threaten to fall over with every turn we rounded, and he clung to my seatback to keep himself upright. Several times, to his chagrin, he fell into Phyllis.

After 2 hours we arrived in Kampot. As we had hoped, and expected, a tuk-tuk driver was waiting at the drop off point and agreed to take us to a guesthouse for $1.00. We stopped at 4 guesthouses and all were full. Finally, on a street lined with guesthouses we found a place with real walls, a large bed, no mosquito net, clean sheets, abundant toilet paper, and air con for $14.00. Happy Valentine's Day to us!!

We walked across the street to Blissful Guesthouse, which had been recommended by the comedic tuk-tuk driver in Sihanoukville, and had a few cold beers and dinner. It was only 5:00 pm when we ate dinner, but, excited by our western choices, we made the mistake of eating a mexican dish. It was so nice to lie in bed, sans mosquito net, and watch TV! We were enjoying it very much until the heartburn and mild nauseau started. Phyl didn't lose any of her groceries, but by 2:00 am I found myself sitting on the toilet, unable to get up, with only a plastic basket type garbage can as a barf recepticle. I had no choice but to puke on the floor, but I repurposed the nether region sprayer and washed everything down the drain! I made it through the remainder of the night, nauseous, but in bed and fitfully sleeping. Phyl was knocked out and never heard a thing except the pack of dogs barking at each other outside of our window. Oh well, it was still quieter than our nights on Otres Beach.

The Plague Hits Otres Beach

Finally we had to leave the beach and go into town so that we could get our Vietnamese Visas.  Not wanting to spend another $15.00 and experience the rocky road, Nicole arranged for us to be taken by her motorcycle driver for only $5.00.  We were assured that there would be no problem with both of us fitting on the motorcycle, and instead of going down rock road, we'd go over the hill at the end of our dirt road.  It would be much faster.  We've seen families of 5 on one motorcycle, so we didn't worry.

G- (to the driver) We go to Vietnam Consulate.  You know it?

Driver - Ok, I know.

G- Phyl, I'll get in the middle and you can get on the back. I know you don't want to ride with your breasts pressed against this dude.

P- There's only one set of foot rests for the back.  Where will you put your feet?

G- I'll just hold them out.  Why did we wear our flip flops instead of our Keens?  We're idiots.

P- Yeah, that was not the wisest decision.  Put your feet on top of mine.

G- It's ok.  My once soft feet have heels so hard they could scrape the asphalt right off the road.

P- We're not wearing helmets, so if we crash, your feet will be the least of your problems.  I'm more worried about becoming road kill.

G- G R E A T!

It was a hot day and didn't take long for us to start sweating, our bodies pressed together like stackable lawn chairs.

G- I've never been pressed up against so many strangers in my whole life.  And men at that!

P- Not just pressed against them, but with your legs wrapped around them.

G- I'm trying to keep my legs out to the sides, but it's making my groin hurt.  As luck would have it, this guy is the first smelly person I've encountered in Cambodia.  They're always bathing, and he's the only one with B.O.!! Plus, my lower back is killing me.

P- I'm sorry you're stuck in the middle.  I can smell him too. We'll switch on the way back.

G- Ah! Look.  A field of cows.  Breath deeply.  I never knew I would be so happy to smell cow poop, but it smells better than B.O.

P- I was just thinking the same thing.

We did have to get off the motorcycle and walk to the top of the steep hill before getting back on and riding the rest of the way into town.  He delivered us to the Vietnamese Consulate and we got our visas in only 10 minutes. Then we stopped at the bank and the grocery and were back on our beach chairs by noon.  


During the 2nd week of our stay, fellow beach bums began dropping like flies with a stomach virus. The first few thought they had food poisoning, but it soon became apparent that it was a virus. Vic and Tom had it before they left, then Phyl got it. She seemed fine all day until we went to dinner at Sunshine Cafe.

We were eating with Elizabeth, a new friend from New York, who arrived just before Vic & Tom left, and with whom we started having dinner each night, when Phyl suddenly had to run down the beach, to the vacant lot, to hurl like the exorcist. Pumpkin curry!  It was not pretty.




Back at the shack she spent a very horrible night, up every couple of hours expelling all bodily contents in both directions. The last thing that either of us wanted was to be sick in botulism bathroom!

Phyl spent the next day, on the beach chair, of course, because we never wanted to stay in the room, sipping sprite and eating nothing buy dry bread.  Still, that made her feel nauseous.

That night I went to sleep with terrible heartburn, even though I had only eaten fried rice, and woke up several times during the night with the bird bowels. It adds that extra little bit of fun when you're running for the toilet and have to stop and search the bathroom for roaches before entering. Fortunately, after our first 2 nights, we never saw another roach again, but we were still on guard.

Thankfully, the vomiting & diarrhea lasted only 12 hours, but the virus lasted approximately 1 week with lingering symptoms of mild nausea and heartburn after eating. We stopped eating after 5:00 pm to prevent the nightime heartburn, and didn't even drink beer for 2 days.  We thought for sure that death was near, when beer turned our stomachs.  For 2 weeks after, we would meet other travelers suffering from the same virus.  It was nothing nice.

Yum Yum

Even on the beach there was hierarchy amoung the hawkers. The kids who went to English school were in a better position than those who did not. The kids worked in pairs or groups of 3 while the older women, who spoke much less English, tended to work alone. Most of these people lived in Sihanoukville. At the bottom of the beach food chain were the young children who tended to be wearing dirty clothes and carried large rice bags which they filled with cans and plastic water bottles they collected from the tourists on the beach. These kids probably came from the shacks that lined the rock road on the way to the beach.

Our hearts went out to these children who ranged in age from maybe 5-10 and were both girls and boys, but they tended to hang in groups of 3 or 4 and were separated by gender. It is unlikely that they went to school at all, and they knew only enough English to ask permission to take the cans or bottles sitting around a beach chair. What struck us was their beautiful smiles and the fact that they always said thank you when given a recyclable. Phyl and I started saving our water bottles and cans, even bringing those from the room to the beach with us in the morning so that we could give them to the children. There seemed to be a rule that the kids did not go past the beach chairs and did not take things from the garbage cans under the 'cabanas'.

We noticed on our first day that Victoria and Tom were always surrounded by kids.

G- Vic, why are the kids always around you?

Vic- We bought them treats and Tom let's them play with his phone.

P- What a great idea to buy them treats.  We'll get some when we go to the store.

Vic - I think they're hungry.  Sometimes we buy them bags of fruit.

G- Yes, we've already done that.  Squid too.

When Vic & Tom left, we became the only 'yum-yum' ladies on the beach. Throughout the day the kids would approach us and say, “yum-yum?” We would hand out one treat a day to each kid who asked. It was heartwarming the way one child, having learned of the treats, would bring others so they too could have a treat. What most impressed us is that they understood that each kid could only have 1 treat per day and they were very honest and did not take more than one.

Sometimes we'd buy fruit from Oun or from the older lady who would stand, at the foot our our chairs, and implore us, with her big, brown, sad eyes to buy her fruit. Over the 2 weeks we built up quasi relationships with the beach hawkers and if we said no thank you, they would not press us. Sometimes we would buy, but not each of the numerous time they'd ask us throughout the day.

We confess that, although we didn't enjoy being asked to buy 25 times per day, we did love the freshness and availability of the beach foods, and we had a wide range of options, delivered to our beach chairs.

fruit – carried on the head, on a large, flat, woven, palm leaf disc. Usually pineapples, bananas, dragon fruit, mango, and papaya. The fruit was cut, at your chair, and placed into a small bag, ($2.00) or large bag, ($3.00).



squid – 2 squid ladies walked the beach carrying a long wooden pole over one shoulder. On each side of the pole hung a metal bowl, one filled with squid on skewers, dipping sauce, styrofoam containers, and extra charcoal, the other contained a clay pot filled with lit charcoal and covered by a grill. The squid lady was always pre-cooking some squid, but would sit and add more as needed or cook them longer upon request. These squid (10 for $1.00) were delicious!



boiled crabs – large, spotted crabs that had been boiled and still warm from the sun. The lady would pre- open them so you'd only have to crack the body in half and dig out the meat.  (5 for $3.00)

Langoustines – grilled in a seasoning. Upon order, they were opened, the meat cut so that it would easily come out of the shell, and squirted with lime. The flavor was good, but they tended to be dry.  (5 for $1.00)



Spring rolls – dangerous because the veggies were fresh and definitely washed in tap water, but yummy
(5 for $1.00)

Finally, all of the restaurants served freshly grilled seafood and potatoes; actual potatoes, not french fries.  We ate, for the first time, marlin, which is a beautiful, white, sweet, flakey fish.  We hope to be able to eat it again.