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Day 215`
Arrived in Sihanoukville, affectionately known by local Khmers and w***y tourists as 'Snooky'. Gill and Ronnie put their foot down with regards to sitting on the roof of the local bus so kindly paid for a private minibus for the four hour journey. Sad to leave PP but will be back before we leave - in fact Rufus deposits his parents back there next week so gets another night. We arrived in hot, sticky Snooky and I nearly had a fit. It was like Ardrossan meets The Beach. On first impressions an awful place, full of stupid backpackers, cheap cafes and nasty bars called things like The Purple Midget and Coconut Beach Shack who offer all night trance parties to 15 year old tanned and tattooed Europeans. Total s***hole. Our hotel was so badly situated you had to negotiate a road full of rubble or walk through seawater up to your knees to access it. I nearly burst into tears worrying about Gill and limping old Ronnie who looked confused, a bit pissed off, and frankly not a little out of place. Greeted by the only sullen Cambodian in the country who didn't offer to carry their luggage, I found their rickety wooden bungalow first and deposited them in it with a forced smile before retiring to my own s***ty bamboo-stilted craphole to tear my hair out, sob and shout at everyone. Rufus and I decided the only solution was to stay one night and find better accommodation in the morning. I braved up and decided to be the one to go and break it to the two OAP's who were last seen with stony faces emptying the seaweed from their suitcase. Imagine my surprise and delight when I found them both lying in hammocks on their decking drinking Mojitos. Turns out it was just me that had a problem, and when everyone (me) had relaxed, the place looked a whole lot nicer. It was also Australia Day (and Katya day, my birthday) when we arrived, hence all the stupid drunk Aussies (sorry to my good Oceanic friends) off their faces and shrieking nonsense. Our accommodation is still a bit basic and not what I would have deliberately chosen - my own parents would have quite rightly cracked up - but my in-laws thankfully had the kindness, good grace and incredible tolerance to get on with it. After a couple of days it seems better - beautiful views, huge decking, big white beds and breakfast by the sea. And the Aussies have b*****ed off now that their day is, quite literally, over.
Had a lovely birthday, was treated to a gorgeous meal and a beautiful blue handbag (now named Betty, geddit?). But I'm not enjoying becoming 38. Turns out I'm old and boring. I actually walked out a beach bar last night tutting that the music was too loud (it wasn't). I frowned at people drinking on a boat trip this morning (it was 9.30am) and I refused any alcohol myself... 'In case I get a headache in the sun. Plus I don't want to feel lousy tomorrow. Alcohol just doesn't agree with me anymore, I can't manage the hangovers. And fattening and not good for the heart. '. I never dreamed those words would come from my wine-stained lips. Next I'll be worrying about fuel bills, stress incontinence and the price of mince in Morrisons.
Apart from the middle-aged drunks (Rufus being one of them), the boat trip was superb. Two hours to a desert island, completely uninhabited apart from some travellers camping on the beach, where we had to jump off the boat and swim to shore. The snorkelling was amazing, very beautiful and both girls were great at it - natural water babies. I can't do it - Lungy holds me back I'm sure, but it is basically a psychological problem - I just crap myself. Fern was brilliant and jumped from the top deck, 7 or 8 metres high (means nothing to me but is about 3 times my friend Ken). Clover tried about 18 times to jump but chickened out at the last minute every time despite cheers of encouragement from our fellow passengers. She then descended into a foul rage for the rest of the day interspersed with sobs of 'I would have done it'. Yeah, and I came up the Mekong Delta in a sampan. She just couldn't face her more sensible sister doing the crazy thing for once. Fern was then treated to a mad banana-boat-raft type of thing which went at a zillion miles an hour with her still holding on for dear life. She's also starting to really crave more independence. On the desert island she demanded to go exploring which led to her going missing for half an hour. Am not sure Cambodia is the kind of place you can start giving your kids more freedom. My heart developed that slow thud while we looked for her - and found her, quite happily, just far away from the rest of us. It's difficult to let her out my sight, but she really really wants to be alone sometimes and do her own thing. She's growing up and I'm sad. So in the mornings, at 7am we get up while everyone else stays asleep and the two of us go on 'an adventure walk' and talk about Daddy. She loves this time alone with me and asks me loads of sweet and personal questions - I am touched that she thinks I might know the answers.
So Snooky turns out to be a lot of fun, a lively beach resort but with deserted white sand beaches, palm trees and turquoise water. It's a bit touristy, but cheap and good for the kids. Gill and Ronnie leave in 3 sleeps and we can decide whether to stay on here and hang out for another week or so, or head straight to Vietnam. Jury's out.
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