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Luckily, after an ambiguous start, I started to feel better as our journey to Sihanoukville progressed (much to BG's relief). Although a relatively short distance in theory, the roads were so bad that what should have taken three hours was more like six, the last of which was a painful crawl along a road sandwiched between paddy fields stretching as far as the eye could see in both directions. This road was literally covered in pot holes and the bus crept along at about ten miles an hour snaking in, out and around the worst of them which meant we were thrown from one side of the bus to the other - for an hour. It was impossible for drivers to stick to one side of the road and so it became a compete free for all with buses, lorries, tuktuks, cars and motorbikes all vying for the spaces on the road that were least affected. Trying to read was completely pointless and eventually everyone gave up and clung on for dear life as we snaked our way to the ocean.
At last we arrived and after the usual stressful negotiations with a tuk-tuk driver, were headed to our motel. Although desperate to get to the beach, our first priority was to arrange our Vietnamese visa ready for our next border crossing. Heading to our motel reception, we asked if there was a tuk-tuk available to take us to the embassy and were pleased when the guy told us to follow him. However, this quickly turned to dismay as took us out to the car park and pointed at a moped. We explained that we both needed to go but undeterred he insisted that we could both fit on! He seemed bemused at our request for helmets (which he didn't have) and before we knew it, all three of us were perched on the seat, BG the meat in the moped sandwich! Expecting the visa to take up pretty much the whole afternoon, we were super impressed to be in and out in less than twenty minutes. The easiest visa so far and no bribes necessary! We were soon back on the moped sandwich and heading back ready to explore the beach.
Having heard mixed reports about Sihanoukville (mostly bad!), we were not sure what to expect, however, once we could feel the sand between our toes we were immediately glad we'd made the effort to come. Although not as clean cut as the Thailand beaches with very run down beach bars and restaurants, more poverty and street kids, and scary amount of fireworks being let off from peoples hands (!), the place still has a certain charm and there were certainly no complaints as we ate supper looking out across the sea.
Next day we headed to Otres beach which I knew from my research was the only place to be seen. A short tuk-tuk ride away, this beach was immediately much calmer with a scattering of beach bars all of which were far nicer than those on the main beach. We headed to the smartest one and made ourselves comfy on some beach loungers ready for a day of rest and relaxation. The peace and quiet was short-lived however, as a kooky eight year old girl selling friendship bracelets soon made her way to us. Having declined her wares, she had us captivated with her unique grasp of sarcasm and irony and having plonked herself down on my sun-lounger, soon made herself at home. Her excitement at my favourite colour being pink was almost too much for her and she immediately began making me a pink friendship bracelet! Having grilled her about why she wasn't in school she was quick to correct us; telling us she went to school in the morning, spent her afternoons selling bracelets on the beach with her dad and then went to an English school in the evening. She was planning to be a doctor but obviously would have to save up enough money to get her wonky teeth fixed first! When BG started to read his book, she leaned in towards me and asked me if we'd had an argument (our loungers were about a foot apart) as we weren't right next to each other. I told her no, but she was not convinced and kept a beady eye on BG from that point on to make sure he didn't upset me! After about an hour her dad came to drag her away and off she went with the three Oreo cookies I'd exchanged for my bracelet still chatting away to anyone who would listen.
While walking along the beach we spotted some mushroom shaped beach huts that looked like something straight out of an Enid Blyton book. BG knows when there's no point arguing and as soon as we spotted them knew that we would be moving straight in! I absolutely loved them but unfortunately, so did the bed bugs. On the second morning, I woke up to find my foot absolutely covered in bedbug bites which were super disgusting and itchy. Obviously I didn't whinge much (!) and poor BG did not have to spend the whole day listening to me complain about the agony I was in or have my foot thrust under his face every twenty minutes. Luckily, a few meters down the beach was another set of beach huts, each resembling whimsical Wendy Houses. Happy that I could still live in a fairytale (albeit a different one) for a while longer, we moved in. Indigo had just opened so we had crisp white bed linen, a huge mozzie net and most importantly - no bed bugs!
Run by two posh boys fresh out of university what they made up for in enthusiasm, they somewhat lacked in professionalism! They were out there on behalf of their uncle and were basically using the place as a honey trap (we found out later that they actually had a conquest tally!). The service was great until any female under the age of twenty five arrived at the bar at which point all other customers were completely forgotten as they both used their limited seduction techniques on the girls in question. When two hot German girls moved into the Wendy House next to us we knew any chance of decent service was gone for good. True to form, that night the boys declared at 9.30 that the bar was closed as we were all going to the main beach to party. Before we had chance to think about it we were bundled into conveniently waiting tuk-tuks and before we knew it were in a cheesy beach bar in an environment that is closest I have come to an 18-30 experience. Slightly horrified, I turned to BG only to find him 'wing man' to the posh boys, giving them tips and absolutely loving the fact that he was 'one of the boys'. Knowing when I've lost him to the greater good (aka beer and boy time), I got chatting to the two German girls, Anna and Helen who were super nice and to my delight not remotely interested in the boys. The rest of the night was spent with me chatting to the girls and watching BG channel his best wingman while getting slowly and steadily tipsy. Initially worried that we wouldn't be able to keep up, we ended up being the last ones standing (those that know BG won't be surprised) and got home in the early hours, long after the kids had gone to bed!
The next few days were spent completely chilling and I doubt I will ever be that relaxed in my life again! Our Wendy House was five steps from the bar and twenty steps from the ocean and we didn't move more that twenty meters in any direction for a whole week! Initially booked in for three nights, we couldn't drag ourselves away and extended our stay every morning! In the bamboo hut next to ours was an ageing Frenchman who ran a decrepid watersports rental business. Limited to kayaks, windsurf and paddle boards it was super cheap and I managed to persuade BG that now was the time to try windsurfing. I'd done it a little in the past and while BG was a novice, for £12 for a lesson and board rental he couldn't refuse. I went first and after a quick refresher was able to sail back and forth quite happily while BG circled me on a paddle board. Next up BG. Not quite as successful. After a period of halfhearted instruction from the Frenchman (after all BG wasn't female!), he was then let loose to put what he'd learnt into practice. For the next half an hour everyone on the beach had to listen to the dulcet tones floating ashore of 'f*cking French f*cking c*nt' followed by a large splash followed by more expletives. For a whole half an hour. Unfortunately BG wasn't finding it funny so I had to try really hard not to laugh but didn't manage to take lots of photos!
The next few days were spent chilling, sunbathing, splashing around in the very warm waters of the ocean for hours at a time. Eventually we decided that we had to move on to our next destination before our Vietnam visa ran out and BG was duly dispatched to book our onward transportation from another bamboo hut. Ten minutes later he was back. The Cambodian king had just died and there was no public transport. Selfish. However, a short while later and the 'travel agent' (aka boy in hut) said he'd managed to find us a bus going to Saigon. Having checked that it was still direct and tourist class, we booked two seats while Anna and Helen (German girls) laughed at us, having seen a group of people leave for Saigon the previous day in what looked like cattle rather than tourist class they were not convinced our journey was going to go smoothly.
Given that we had a 6am start, we made our way to bed early to try to get some sleep however, this was not to be. The beach bar next door had just been sold and the new owner had arrived and a massive celebratory party was just kicking off. As the speakers were literally at our heads and were pumping out music loud enough for the whole of Cambodia to enjoy, we decided that the only option was to join the party. Walking in it was clear that the party had been going on for quite some time and it wasn't only alcohol that had got the party going. Everyone was completely wasted, half naked and the place was trashed. Trying not to think about our early start, we sat at the bar and drank our way through copious amounts of vodka watching the party get more and more debauched. By 2am it showed no signs of ending and we were starting to despair. Then out of nowhere, crazy new owner decided to shut the party down, practically snatched our drinks away from us and tried to kick us out. When we asked if we could just finish our drinks (that we had paid for!) she completely lost it and started yelling about how she had guests to consider and that they needed to get some sleep. You can imagine how well that went down given that we'd been kept awake long after we had wanted to go to bed, we had to practically drag BG out of the bar before he totally lost it!
So four hours later, and with very sore heads we were up ready to go, waiting for our tourist class bus to take us to Saigon. Helen and Anna who were also up at this unearthly hour for a trip they'd booked saw us off and had a good laugh at our mode of transport. Needless to say, they were not disappointed.
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Mum Such language!!!! Forgotten those days. You really are seeing all walks of life, looking forward to next episode.