"I'VE MISSED THE OCEAN"

SIHANOUKVILLE, CAMBODIA

Temperature: 30 degrees Celsius, some rain

Track of the day: Halfway, Jason Mraz

"No, I don't want to go back to living like a commoner," I whine as we pack up to leave our private pool room in Phnom Penh. Yesterday we both came down with a stomach bug which was really more of an 'I can't get bring myself to get out of the pool' kind of sickness. Flipping through our Lonely Planet Cambodia book last night we searched for a place to eat in the 'dining for a cause' section. After a short conversation it was decided we would eat at a local restaurant that gives former street children a helping hand into the hospitality industry called Friends. We walked into the breezy dining room where dozens of young Khmer men and women bow to us bringing their hands together at their lips and smiling that infectious smile.

The waiters all wear t-shirts with either 'student' or 'teacher' written on the back and dozens of photos hang on the wall showing where trained staff found work elsewhere in Phnom Penh. "I like eating in places like this," Alecs says taking a bite of his deep-fried banana, "at least we know our money is going to help the people here". A young student tentatively tops up our water and we finish our delicious meals before heading back to the hotel. Now it's early morning and we're sitting on the Mekong Express Bus bidding Phnom Penh goodbye. "I'm going to miss that pool," I say laying my head on Alecs' shoulder, "but at least we're heading to a beach." Four hours slip by and our bus pulls into a crowded terminal teeming with tuk-tuk's and moto's. "Mam you want a moto?" one man asks me as I throw my backpack over my shoulder. Shaking my head I find Alecs and begin walking away from the masses. A tuk-tuk driver follows alongside us and offers a $5 fare for two people to our guesthouse. Alecs immediately shakes his head. "How much you want to pay?" the man then asks as we walk up a hill in god only knows what direction. "Two dollars," Alecs says, knowing the local price and holding his ground. "Okay, okay - four dollar then," the man tells us, but Alecs shakes his head. The driver pauses for a moment and then says "fine you win, three dollars." Alecs smiles and laughs but shakes his head holding up two fingers being his usual obstinate self. After walking another five meters the driver finally gives in and takes us to Orchidee guesthouse for $2. Our hotel is situated on Occhetual beach, one of the many beaches here in Sihanoukville, southern Cambodia. Occhetual beach is mainly used by Cambodians who come to enjoy the ocean for the weekend. Alecs and I lie down for a moment in our rooms with the intention of heading to the beach right away. However, we wake up at 11PM, kicking ourselves for not setting a one hour alarm. "Oh well," Alecs says, "I guess we'll have to make up for lost time tomorrow." 

When tomorrow rolls around we rise extra-early heading straight to the beach. It's 7:45AM and none of the many businesses dotting the beach are open yet and only locals walking to work can be seen. "Let's walk down there," I say pointing to a very long stretch of beach far away from any people or restaurants. We take off our sandals, feeling the sand under our feet and walk near the shore as the waves splash against us. The water is a beautiful shade of blue and a lone fishing boat sits calmly in the distance. We find a quiet spot on the beach where no-one can be seen for 50-meters in either direction. Laying out our beach towel, stripping down to our swimsuit and grabbing our snorkels - we run out to the salty water. "I've missed the ocean," Alecs says, feeling the warm water surround him and strapping on his mask. We float on our backs occasionally looking over at each-other, big smiles stretching across our faces. We practice diving underwater with our snorkels on, but visibility here in this part of the Gulf of Thailand isn't that good. A fisherman casts a large net beside us and moments later pulls out a dozen wriggling squid. "Mmmmm, squid," I say to Alecs, "we have to have some fresh squid while we're here." A few hours later we drag ourselves out of the water to relax under the sun on the sandy beach. A woman and her niece walk down the beach carrying a bin of nail supplies offering a pedicure and manicure for $5. The two of them sit down next to us and strike up a friendly conversation about where we are from and why Alecs looks Khmer. Looking at my pathetic looking feet, where only small remnant's of the nail polish I applied before we left Canada remain I decide a pedicure on the beach might not be such a bad idea. "Our money is at the hotel," I explain, "but in two hours we can meet you back here,"I add. The woman agrees and heads off down the beach, niece in tow. We pick up our wallet at the hotel and then find a place on the beach to sit down and have lunch. We find some big comfy chairs alongside the beach and order fresh seafood and mango shakes. A lady walks by us carrying skewers of fresh squid and a grill with charcoal under it. A couple beside us buys a dozen skewers of the tasty looking squid and the vendor bends down grilling them right there, a delicious aroma filling the air. "One dollar," the vendor tells the couple and both our jaws drop. "One dollar," I whisper to Alecs. We must have some fresh squid" After finishing lunch the pedicure lady spots us and commences scrubbing down my feet while Alecs heads to the water. Thunder roars in the distance and looming dark clouds roll in above us. The air already smells of rain, the humidity is rising and moments later it's pouring buckets. Alecs and many of the Khmers continue 

swimming in the water since there is no lightning and the water becomes warmer than the air. We move under the cover of an umbrella and I choose a pink nail polish for my toes.  Half and hour later my feet feel incredible and both my fingernails and toenails are nicely manicured. The rain picks up and pours off the thatch roof buildings, pooling between the open-air restaurants. The rain creates a brown river of runoff water flowing to the ocean breaking apart the sand creating huge canals probably two meters deep. Soon the smell of sewage wafts towards us and the water becomes black. "I think we should go away from the businesses since their sewage is now running into the water," Alecs says. We walk along the beach in the rain, leaping over the rivers of sewage running into the water for close to half an hour. We are finally far enough away from the businesses and the water becomes clear again and smells of salt instead of sewage.  Laying down our towel, we keep our sunscreen, hairbrush and t-shirts in a plastic bag before heading to the beach. The rain

slows down and Alecs and I spend several more hours basking in the open water. We slowly swim back to shore where we find out plastic bag stolen, a single set of footprints leads to the bag and then away. "Oh well," Alecs says right away, "we knew that might happen, it's a good thing nothing valuable was in there." Alecs is right, all our important things are on us and after sulking for a few minutes I relax and forget about the lost t-shirt and sunscreen. A young Khmer guy comes and sits next to me while Alecs wades in the shallows. "Where are you from," he asks me, striking up conversation. His name is Seng and he is studying English so likes talking to foreigners for practice. This is a very common thing here in Cambodia, many people will simply sit next to us, speaking in English with no hidden agenda, simply friendly people trying to learn our language. Seng joins some of

his friends and heads off and Alecs and I take that as our queue to leave. We walk back to the hotel to shower and change before coming back for dinner. "Look at this sign," I say to Alecs walking barefoot down the shore, "seafood barbecue for three dollars." We excitedly sit down on giant round couches on the beach and order the seafood barbecue. The sun is low and the sky is turning a brilliant shade of red and purple. Tiny lights begin dotting the ocean, where fishing boats float lazily. Six tiny black and white chubby puppies waddle around the restaurant and

every guest wants to hold one. "They look like Shadow," I nearly squeal, unable to take my eyes off some of the cutest puppies I've ever seen (aside from my own of course.) I pick one of the tiny balls of fur up while our seafood cooks on the grill in-front of us and begin cuddling with her. "Can I hold it now," Alecs says longingly. I smile and hand over the puppy happy that Alecs has the same love for them as I do. We continue trading puppies with the other guests until our food arrives. A heaping plate of fresh barbecued squid, prawns, octopus and fish are piled next to the rice and salad and all this for only $3. We each take a sip of our 50 cent Angkor Beers, peeling the prawns and listening to the waves lap against the shore. "Could we ask for anything else," I say to Alecs who shakes his head. "Nope, this is more that anyone could ask for," he says. Too full to finish all my food, I feed some of my fish to a few of the clumbsy puppies. We pay our bill and spend a few minutes standing in the water talking and gazing at the stars above before walking back to the hotel. "I know we didn't have much time," Alecs says as we lay in bed, the ceiling fan spinning above us, "but we had a great time didn't we?" I nod my head happily and drift off into a blissful sleep.

Tomorrow we are heading back to Siem Reap, an unplanned return, but due to our great love for the place we just had to go back. It will be a full day of travelling - 10 hours, but we both know it will be well worth it.

So long for now,

Alecs and Meg in Sihanoukville