Cambodia part deux

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The Irish Mob
So I set off from Phnom Penh for Kampot and was happily minding my own business sat on a coach when for some reason a game of musical chairs took place. The net result of which was a pretty Irish girl sitting next to me called Cathy. Over the next five or so hours we got talking and at the rest stops I met her four other travel companions; Declan, Stu, Niall and Neil. When we arrived at Kampot I was pretty set on staying at Bodhi Villa guest house which numerous others had raved about. But Cathy persuaded me to join them at 'The magic sponge' instead. Turned out to be one of the best decisions I made on my trip.

The Magic Sponge
We were met at the bus stop by a legendary older Irish gent 'Neil B' who was a family friend of one of the Irish mob's father. From his perch behind the bar Neil B ensured that our blood alcohol level consistently remained acceptably Irish (bloody Mary's for breakfast). The owner of The Magic Sponge inevitably was a British ex-pat who had tired of life at home and bought and converted an old bank into a guest house. The main draw of this place (aside from Neil B) was it's free to use, flood lit mini golf course! We spent a large amount of time working on our handicaps at all hours of the night, strangely (like with pool) we played better the more inebriated we became.

The Irish mob were very good company, a generally easy going and relaxed bunch who were big into their music, whether playing it or debating it. Particularly the work of one Robert Dillon. I doubt I will never hear so much of 'Bob' in such a short space of time. With Neil B's advice we sampled very good local haunts for nosh and drinks but it would always end with an extended night cap in the bar of our hostel. This was where I first witnessed first hand a Jagger off. Declan and Niall could both do a mean Mick Jagger rendition complete with spot on idiosyncratic posturing and posing. The end result was a spectacle that had to be seen to be believed.

Glastonbury this is not
One night we heard loud music emanating from somewhere close by so decided to go and investigate. Upon closer inspection we discovered a music festival was taking place showcasing what must have been major Cambodian/SE Asian pop stars. We caught the tale end of this spectacle which was completely free to enter, probably because it was solely and extensively sponsored by a national beer. Either way the crowd were going mad for the highly stylised western influenced people shrieking something indecipherable over seriously up tempo rhythms. Either way we were happy to take a back seat in it all and sink some brews and observe before our customary nightcap.

Electrocuted again
I'm starting to think that like water, electricity and I don't mix. Or should have a restraining order. After my near-death experience in the dessert in India I was about to receive another shock. This time however, I'm delighted to inform you it was far more light hearted encounter with my nemesis.
I was in an internet cafe and I was trying to move all my photos from my camera to a memory stick. As soon as I plugged in my camera and tried to handle it I got a small shock. Informing the proprietor I was moved to another terminal where inevitably the same thing happened again. This amused the people in the shop greatly and they rushed off and returned with a pair of rubber soled sandals so that I could effectively earth my self. Only in Asia!

Kep
One day we rented moto's and made the picturesque ride to neighbouring Kep, a seaside village. There on the sea front we enjoyed fresh crab, which like everything in the area was seasoned with the famous (and very tasty) Kampot pepper. Being my first real crab cracking experience I made a real mess of things but definitely earned the meat I ate. After lazing about on the beach for a bit and taking a dip in the sea we decided to make our way back to Kampot. Once we were back in Kampot we tried to explore outside the town which didn't get very far. Mainly because Stu lost control of his moto and ploughed into some locals and was sent sprawling. Luckily nobody was hurt, only a little bit of bruised pride. Nothing a night at the magic sponge couldn't fix.

Rabbit Island
Just off shore from Kep is a small island that gave most Thai islands a run for their baht. Now paradise island is a term often banded around along with crystal clear waters and sandy beaches but this was the real deal. Accommodation was fairly basic wooden huts that barely separated you from your neighbours as we would soon discover. I managed to sleep through a heated argument followed by angry make up sex from our Czech neighbours. But that didnt detract from the charm of the place. We undertook an expedition to walk around the island which we completed in a couple of hours. It would of been quicker if some of the bays weren't so perilously rocky underfoot. Some locals also tried to con us into taking a boat ride by claiming there was no way round, this prove a major exaggeration. Our days were generally spent lazy around and playing long distance catch with a tennis ball in the perpetually still and shallow waters. The entire islands electricity supply came from diesel generators which were switched off at 10pm leaving us with unspoilt views of a glittering night sky.

The best night ever
Did not involve bumping hips with a nymphomaniac, it was way betterer than that! Like everyone I appreciate star gazing on a clear night and when you remove light pollution entirely from the equation then it's pretty spectacular as I've experienced, and this was no exception. When there is no sound spilling out from a bass heavy sound system, drunken revellers larking about or any human derrived noise it is bliss. Just the sound of the sea gently lapping, the wind in the palms and animals making their noises. What made this oh so special? Well for a start we all saw shooting stars which was pretty epic since I'd never seen one before. Then Cathy noticed something in the water...

I went to check it out and knew almost before I got to the waterline what it was. I merrily began splashing about excitedly to which the Irish onlookers must have thought I was a bit special. I beckoned them to check out the water and they were as mesmerised as I was. We all ran to get changed into our swimming gear and woke up those who were absent and charged into the sea. Under the glow of a full moon the sea lit up brilliantly when disturbed with bio-luminescent plankton or 'disco' plankton as they became known. Tiny little specs of glowing electric blue so bright you could see your feet on the sea bed when you moved. Silly as it sounds this had been a dream of mine since reading about it when I was at college in a travel book and I'd made it one of my goals along with elephant riding and scuba diving on my travels. Tick. When we finally emerged from the water still jubilant we found that if you rubbed your still damp skin you would light up, a novelty that didn't get old. See, who needs a pneumatically nubile nymphomaniac?

Sinhoukville
This is where the party's at in Cambodia. A beach side city of sin to rival Koh Phangan or Vang Vieng. On the advice of Hughes and V we checked into Monkey Republic a typically British style hostel run by some expats, which I thoroughly recommend. Upon check in you receive a free pint (a sign of things to come) and with St. Patrick's day just around the corner it was emerald coloured. Looked like fairy liquid, tasted like beer. St Patrick's day itself with a group of Paddy's was as it should be a very drunken affair in which: We went on a ferris wheel, a strange Irish/Czech coupled who we accumulated made a move on Cathy, Neil pulled a girl called Felicity who kept burping while kissing, running into the Scottish lads, some greek lads and 2 Danish girls all from earlier travels, an epic Jagger off betwwen Declan and Niall on the Monkey Republic bar top to 'satisfaction', which got Niall laid. I actually walked in on them by accident as everyone disappeared shortly after 2am, they had all slunk off to sleep which in my drunken state led to me making a bit of a scene ranting about how I out drunk the Irish on St. Patrick's day. What a state. So I went back to the bar and drank some more and bent some poor girls ear off about the wonders of India. Typical. Oh and I got my first haircut in seven and a half months courtesy of Cathy. In truth it was long overdue and I looked a bit of a pleb. When will I learn that long hair doesn't suit me? Never. The fall out of St. Paddy's was a 2 day hangover, to which death would have been preferable.

After such various nefarious antics we relocated to Otres beach outside the town which was a lovely calm swathe of beach to detox, or as close to as we were going to get. It was also the scene of the farewell to the Irish mob who rightly took their place with the other esteemed legends of my travels. It was sad to part from them as they had been phenomenal company and had allowed me into the group and treated me like an old friend.

Koh Rong
I thought that Rabbit Island or Phu Quoc in Vietnam were unspoilt paradises. Well Koh Rong blew them all away. In terms of habitation there is a dive centre on one side of the island and that's it. Or so I thought. On the boat ride over I got chatting to two Spanish guys who although not massively receptive were friendly enough and a very nice young French couple. Ostensibly the island was a dive centre with a restaurant/bar further up the beach and that was it. The accommodation was one large dorm of bunk beds under mosquito nets. The bar itself had very little atmosphere and was populated predominantly by couples and everyone seemed to always be reading a book. It was also expensive to drink so when Silvio produced a bottle of Rum he'd brought things were more interesting. The beaches although looking immaculate were host to sand flies which are as evil as mosquito's but more painful. If I had my way they wouldn't exist, since I cannot see the point of them in the food chain both should not exist. If you can't already tell this is a bug bare of mine.

We were informed that you could trek over to the other side of the island by following a 'clearly' marked trail. We inevitably proceeded to get rather lost while wondering through dense undergrowth. But once reunited with the path we came to a rather perilous aprt. There was a steep - and I mean vertical - cliff edge which you had to repel yourself ten metres down on a make shift rope. This was then followed by scaling some seriously steep rocky paths with gulleys at either side. This perilous passage proved too much for my make shift caterpillar/OshKosh/DC hybrid flip flops which perished in the decent making walking a haphazard activity. It was worth it though as we emerged into a secluded hostel complex of bungalows. There was barely a soul around, aside from some local workers and the Finnish guy who ran the paradise retreat. If I'd known of this place I would have stayed there instead, it really was spectacular. Pristine waters, a private beach devoid of sand flies and good snorkelling. We ate and drank in the tranquil ambience and felt a little cheated when it came to leave. I did manage to find a replacement flip flop that had washed up on the beach previously. Result.

When in Rome
Since most of the people where we were staying were doing diving there was plenty of vacant beach to explore so long as you forgot about the existence of evil insects. With the two Spanish lads we staked out a spot on the beach which we were the masters of. They then liberated themselves of all clothing and swanned around naked like it was the most natural thing in the world, which it is. So I put aside my prudish British sense of shame handed down from Victorian times and embraced the Latin skinny dipping vibe. Why had I not done this sooner? It really is quite an amazing feeling of freedom, once you get past the shame and embarrassment. I decided to have a splash amongst some pretty
serious waves and was lucky as the French couple came into view in the distance and strolled past. Silvio lay spread eagle on the beach without a care in the world but with the water waste deep I maintained the illusion of modesty. You can take the Brit out of England...

The best cinema in the world EVER
Back in Sinhoukville on the mainland I paid a visit to Top Cat cinema, which is run by a very friendly American ex pat with a passion for cinema. The main screen holds about forty people in air-conditioned bean-bagged/sofa luxury. I watched Alice in wonderland followed by shutter island. What's so special about all this you may ask? Well you can drink, smoke/toke, and if you ask the owner will order in mushroom pizzas for you to chow down on. If you get hungry/thirsty theres a fridge stocked with beer and munchies and you pay at the end. A very magical experience indeed. You can also privately hire it out during the day with mates to play Xbox or watch your favourite films from his extensive library.

Skool boy error
After seven months of travelling you'd of though I could successfully navigate a bus trip. You'd be wrong. I got on said bus headed for Bangkok just fine, but then we stopped at a rest area. I grabbed some munch, had a cigarette and then went to get on my bus. Only problem was among the five or six vehicles mine was nowhere to be seen. Cue mild panic and running around like a headless chicken. My big back pack was on there which basically contained my entire life at that point in time. I managed to get onto another bus and borrowing a locals mobile, I phoned the bus company and get them to wait for me further up the road. Well in the interim I was trying to remain calm but it wasn't until I boarded my original bus and was reunited with my snail shell that I allowed myself to breath easily.

Adiós Cambodia, you surpassed my every expectation!

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