|
Day 21 - Wednesday, Nov 12, 2003
Sihanoukville
|
|
| Breakfast at Mick and Craig's, with the top dance hits of the 1980s playing endlessly on the CD player. |
More Mick and Craig's Pictures
| We walked (Ruth took a moto) into the ugly sprawlville of downtown Sihanoukville, where Dan took out $300 on Mastercard and Ruth and Claire made Visa withdrawals; we bought more Bacardi "white wine" (actually one bottle of white and one bottle of brown), water, and snacks, then walked back to the Golden Lion roundabout and up a quiet road past bored seashell-vendors to Sokha Beach. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Sokha is just around the corner (big tumbled bouldery outcropping) from the last beach, but utterly different. Soft, clean sand that squeaks when you scuff it, and a low stone wall separating the beach from a huge, silent hotel-resort that isn't open for business yet. No hawkers, only a couple other sunbathers. Not much sun either, it's clouded up very pleasantly. |
| There are a few men dozing in the closed tikis behind the wall, so Dodo is paranoid to leave the beach with all our passports, cameras, credit cards, and newly withdrawn funds unguarded. So the 3 others are out bobbing in the water, chatting, and a laugh or occasional word reaches her, but mostly she's alone with her book. |
| Whether in Cambodia or Atlantic City, the rites are the same - walk farther on loose sand than is necessary, looking for The Spot, till whoever's got the heavy bag complains. Spread towels (sarongs) and get arrayed for the sunshine. Strip down to skimpies and rub your flesh with lotion. Bask. Swim. Towel off, relotion, rebask, etc. Now everyone is asleep but the wind in the leaves and the man on the little orange bulldozer, chugging back and forth from almost-the-wall to almost-the-water, smoothing down the heaped, eroded and sculpted beach sand. |
| At dusk on the empty beach, Ruth decided to open the white rum and slug from the bottle. She'd probably had a more frustrating time than us, as she was still limping. It rained briefly at lunchtime and we walked up the hill but found only chickens and children and shacks and nowhere for lunch. So we all drank rum from the bottle on empty stomachs, and Ruth stumbled on the steep bank and came up covered with sand. Ruth and Claire caught motos to Mick and Craig's, while Dodo navigated Dan and herself there on foot. |
| Dan was feeling ill (thought it was just from the rum) and not eating, but the others had veggie crepes. After dinner, Ruth decided to moto back to the guesthouse. Outside Mick and Craig's, her sarong fell off, and she was so sandy from the beach that Craig called her a croquette. Not much later, Dodo walked back, also - drunk, but not as drunk (playing catch-up at the bar while Dan drank Coke). |