Everybody knows I'm not a beach person. I shun the typical 'backpacker activity' of bumming around Thai islands for months on end, searching for the 'beach' (maybe a certain movie and book have someting to do with it?), only to find flimsy overpriced bungalows, average falang food and expensive beer. I don't enjoy lying in the sun, getting wet every now and then (watching out for sea urchins and jellyfish!) and finding my bed in the aformentioned flimsy bungalow full of sand. Give me an Asian capital, a market, temples, food courts and treking, and I'll be set. I'll leave the beach to the gap-yearers. Nick agrees with me, he is possibly even less keen, as he doesn't enjoy swimming. So it will probably come as a surprise to hear we spent an amazing week in the Cambodian south, between Sihanoukville, Kampot and Kep.
There was this bunch of people we kept crossing paths with, since Southern Laos. That's one of the wonders of travelling; like-minded people are easy to find, and easy to meet again as most people follow the same itinerary around South East Asia. We met these people again in Siem Reap and Battambang, and decided to visit the south of Cambodia together. First stop was Sihanoukville, the premier beach resort on Cambodia's diminutive coastline. Probably not a destination I would've chosen for the two of us, but the prospect of spending a few days in company of others looked rather inviting. The bus trip to Sihanoukville showed the advantages of travelling with a 'group'. As it happens, the bus broke down. We waited on the roadside whilst the damage was assessed, various repairs were attempted (and failed), and finally whilst a replacement bus was sent from Phnom Penh. A 4 hours wait for a 4 hours bus trip. However, between a game of hearts and one of 51, waiting by the roadside was never so enjoyable.
To cut a long story short, and not bother you all with the same 'been there, stayed in such and such guesthouse' babble, I'll skip to our final destination, Otres Beach. We spent three days with a lot more Hearts, card games and small talk. We watched the sun set in the sea every evening, ate fish tacos and drank beer with our feet in the sand. Every lunchtime we had grilled squid and crayfish from two lovely ladies hawking their produce along the beach, certainly up there in the 'top 5' street food I have had in all these months. The only blunder was a snorkelling trip we took. The boatpeople, however friendly and lovely, were clearly inexperienced and anchored on a reef, one of the first and foremost environmental no-nos. And the water was far too shallow, resulting in multiple injuries for the snorkellers. And to top it off, it started to rain. I have forgotten to mention that the wet season is starting, and since Battambang has rained nearly every day. The rain comes in downpours which last from a few minutes to an hour, usually offering some respite from the stifling heat. However, with a few bloodied feet and generally a low morale, the downpour in this case was less than welcome.
Somewhat, there is a completely unrelated topic I wish to mention. I have spoken about Cambodia's poverty, and the subsequent willingness for some locals to make a 'quick buck'. This phenomenon had a dual consequence for me and my image of Cambodia and Cambodians. On one hand, I was bothered by the continuous offers of 'you buy?', yes, I have been rude to some of the vendors, especially with those trying the 'emotional blackmail' card. On the other hand, it made me sad, thinking that the myriad street peddlers are not the only ones who suffer. Say, living in Siem Reap and hawking around the temple, one is pretty much assured to return home with a few dollars at the end of the day. In rural Cambodia, I'm not so sure. There are plenty who suffer without flaunting it, because they do not even have the possibility to do so.
And I'll tell a story now. In Otres beach I met Rowan (not sure about the name's spelling), a beautiful 24-year old who ran the guesthouse we stayed at. She studied accounting and was keen to chat in English. I noticed some baby paraphernalia in the beach hut where she lives with her husband, and inquired after the baby. She said, he's dead, at 5 months. She pointed at the phone receiver and said 'he was this big'. Then, I realised she was talking about a stillbirth, and quickly said 'nevermind'. I recalled talking to another woman in Siem Reap whose baby also died at birth. In three weeks in Cambodia, I met two women who experienced stillbirths. In 25 years in the West, I never met any. But what caught me was the way both women seemed absolutely not bothered by the fact they had lost a child. They both accepted their fate, blaming their children's death on inadequate and unaffordable medical care.
This episode made me think about what we need as human beings. A Romanian man once said to me 'the most important things in life are health and freedom'. Too many people nowadays worry about trivial things, and in this I include work. Too many people work just to put more money in already-full pockets, when at the same time, there are women in Cambodia who are unable to give birth safely, for whom a child's death is nothing more than just another accident in the struggle for life.
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