And the waves rise and fall

Another beautiful day in paradise; turquoise glints off the ocean surface, the marriage between the sunshine and the water , the yin and yang. I'm smiling as i look out at the island 2km from here, we managed to swim there and back 2 days ago, an accomplishment we're proud of. We woke up that morning, work started at 3pm that day and I had itchy feet.. living on the beach is lovely and the vibe is always relaxed, but there are those sparks of wanting to do things, explore, continue to grow and be excited. It was one of those mornings "We're swimming to Koh Otress this morning!" I pounced on J. and got a few sleepy grunts in response and a tight squeeze. Persistance won, so we grabbed a good breakfast, an ice coffee and a cig, listening to everyone's advice about what to bring/ do etc. The advice on the currents was one we took into account, so we biked up to 'Otress 2', the next beach to our left about 20 minutes away. Smothered in sun cream, the sky was cloudless and the air thick. We wondered through 'Golden Sunset guesthouse' where mum and I stayed on all of our previous trips. A little hug and a chat later, our bike keys were in safe hands and we'd set off. J dragging half a bottle of water tied to his drawstring, for when we arrived. We lost each other a few minutes in, carried by the tides and different speeds - my goggles started leaking about 5 minutes in but sight wasn't really necessary as long as you kept track of the landmark every now and then. We spent an hour swimming, jellyfishing and meditating through the sea to the coral on the shores of the island. After 45 minutes, your mind just stops thinking and focuses on your strokes, breathing, the heat, like any exercise. There were occasional moments of fear and vulnerability, halfway between the 2 islands, seeing nothing beneath you but dark blue and slowly spinning around to face the terrifyingly HUGE cloud of ... seaweed, phew. Before we reached the island the details on the trees came into view, the fish amongst the coral, the spiky sea urchins that we avoided narrowly by lifting our bellies and squidding over them. The rubbish was sadly a sign aswell, plastic bags resembling huge jellyfish and coca cola cans, talk about a monopoly, they just have advertisements everywhere..We didn't choose the best time to go, it was 11am and the sun was roasting. Hours after we arrived back, one look at my tomato-red face said it all. It's dropped a few shades on the colour scale thus far, thanks to the fresh Aloe Vera leaves that the ladies around here sell. The peeling's just kicked in, grreat... 
On the Island we met the one person that lived there, a seemingly simple Khmer man in a basic hut, surrounded by mounds of rubbish and half constructed foundations. It was a shame the Russians that owned it hadn't done more to look after it when the potential was crazy. I sat and meditated, facing the islands around us and the expanse of sea. The swim back was more tiring, requiring more songs to be sung and thoughts to be thought. It felt like high school swim practise all over again, with no ropes either side of you to flop out over.
It hasn't all been fun and games here though, 'for every action, there is an equal and  opposite reaction' and that definately rings true.. straight after my last post, we had a big night out in 'Serendipity'. It looked even worse this time, it wasn't as packed so people weren't hiding the grimy bars and dodgy dealings. The night however was young and fun, energy picked up in a seconds and we were steaming around with our mates, watching the show of the teenage girls wrestling in bikini's lathered in soap, to the dancefloor to go crazy, a smoking break to catch our breath and a swim to cool off. Everyone was going skinny dipping, and despite our states, the warning 'don't leave your stuff unnatended on the beach' rang in our ears, so we asked a man to watch our clothes for a few dollars. Swimming with the phosphorescents we looked over at the shore to see the sillhouettes of a group of guys rummaging through our stuff. The one we'd paid sat there looking oblivious to everything: 'I don't know, I don't know'. Every pocket had been rifled through and everyone's money, Iphones, bank cards were gone. I spotted my  rolled up money that had been dropped on the sand as they ran away. I thought back to the blessing I'd been given that morning by the monk, and let out a grateful sigh. That night was dramatic, racing around finding the police, boys getting rowdy, everyone getting pissed off, police found, guy beaten up, nothing solved.
 

A few nights later at the big 'Cambodian New Year Party' we had a wild night. Flames soaring up bathroom walls, craters in the sand, millions of shooting stars, hours of laughing and swirly hands - but through it all we were aware not to bring anything valuable. The next night, hoping to snap some good pics with our girls from Laos and our lovely couple M and H, a blues rocker from Aus and a sweet, quirky Canadian - we bought my camera out. J and I were playing a game of pool with 2 other guys we'd just met, not wanting to hold onto my bag I left it a metre away from me, against the wall, in direct view. A few pool shots later, I turn around and it's gone. Photos from Cambodia, camera, $60, important documents and 'The.green.bag'. Later we're warned about 'how much gets stolen at Ritchies' - great.
Oohh the difficulty of the language barrier when buying things.. I remember trying to ask for where 'tampons' were and had the shop assistant 'subtly' shout it out across the floor repeatedly, soon the shop was like a group of seagulls from Finding Nemo 'tampons? tampons? tampons?' I blushed and hung my head laughing as they figured it out and quietened down; despite the difficulty we've since replaced my moleskin diary with a shit one, bought another camera, and a little peacock bag from Otress market. When I bought the camera, I turned it on to look a the picture quality and discovered that it, like mine, was a stolen camera and memory card. Another blonde, similar aged backpackers photo's were in my hands - and so the loop continues. Realizing the corruption surrounding the place is really sad. Sihanoukville is an amazing place, but like everywhere, it's dark side exists as well: Everywhere on this beach is illegally leased, ready to be destroyed and over-taken by the government any day. The police collect bribes monthly to allow for no taxes, and weed to be openly smoked. Half the monks check out girls more than the any other guy around and the guys that sell you your motorbikes, steal them too. Our motorbike was stolen and a few days later, our owner's happened to inherit a brand new bike - curious. Luckily, our replacement bike stopped working and his was the only other option, so at least we've landed ourselves with a functioning one, temporarily. But the thing is, despite knowing you're in the right, there's nothing you can do about it, because the power doesn't belong to you. Our boss is being accused of selling dope by the chief of police - whether it was a nearby competitor that lied, or the tuk tuk driver around the corner, their word is always stronger than yours. The other day I was talking to a mate that served in the British army, my mouth hung as I listened to how ships were used to transport drugs across the border. Who do you trust when those that serve to protect, are hypocrites?

The weather describes the events that occur here pretty well. Stunning days to cloudy skies to flash lightening storms that we just sit and watch in the shallows of the sea. The sunsets reflect every colour, the cartoon clouds changing shape every minute. The rain comes, the mood shifts, the 'still' returns and then it's sunny again. And all throughout the wind and rain, there's one tree above our bedroom that inhabits every bird in Sihanoukville, and they tweet away all night and all day. Other guesthouses nearby choose to use synthetic background noise, the speakers outside their doors blare 'rainforest sounds' to passers by. The novelty wears off after a few minutes, staying there for longer than that? No thanks.

We've got  a different crew here, The German girls, The Estonian girls, T, S, M, K&T, The Asian stoner from Luxemburg and a new face M. It's lovely having familiar faces from along the way pass by in waves, now we're on to our Frenchy S, and E and his girls from The Isle of White. Most of the long-timers live with us in the 'Sunshine House' accompanied by 4 naughty little kittens. Next door where we work 2 little puppies Ronnie and Reggie (The Cray twins) have joined the gang. We're bringing up the next generation of Otress animals - chasing after them as they run next door for a shit or get their heads stuck in motorbike wheels, naughty buggers.
One photo I lost that I can't get out of my head is those kids running through the smoke as the fire rose around a square of land near Serendipity. Driving through the smoke was hot . I closed my eyes and held my breath, imagining what it would be like to be caught in a fire like that and shaking off the thought. We drove 45 minutes away to the waterfalls we clambered up the rocks, watched the monks bathing in the clear water with their bright orange robes. We sat in the hammock briefly before resorting to the floor after being charged $4, pshh..  
We escaped the sun with a trip to TopCat, so far we've fit in 'Argo', 'The Shawshank redemption', 'American Psycho', 'American Beauty', 'Sin City', 'Mars Attacks' and a few more I'm sure we can't remember. All of them, were great if you're looking for one to watch. From where I'm sitting I can see a dog curled up in a circle chair, the look on it's face is 100% relaxed and comfortable - the goal. A phone's ringing and I don't respond to it like I used to before, it's nice not having a phone or something to constantly check. The disconnection with technology apart from the occasional Facebook update makes you feel so much more connected to what's going on around you. When you're engaged on the phone it's as though nothing around you really exists, having one almost takes away a part of your presence.
I wonder if humans will ever get to a point where we'll be conditioned to prefer technology over nature, I'm glad it doesn't satisfy every need just yet.
Good tunes are coming from our place, it's so nice now that our other bosses R & K don't have an influence over the music.. Taylor Swift and Nicky Minaj were getting old..


I smile as I remember what the space cookies had turned the night into. Kicking in faster than expected the last few hours of work went in slow motion as I sat useless at the bar, G. had passed out on a chair in the middle of the courtyard, eyes were red and spirits high. My boss S wonders behind the bar with red eyes and I whisk him up a munchie- shake -overload of 'fake oreos', milk, bananas, chocolate sauce and whipped cream - he was happy. The cinnamon from the cookie resonating in our mouths. 4.20 was celebrated in an appropriate fashion. J got a blind taste test with the tropical fruit he claims to hate. We had a few winners :) At the wee hours we ordered $3 wraps from the wrap man that will deliver amazing chicken wraps to you at any hour of the night - our hero. A conversation about vaporizers took off and I came to the conclusion that if the government legalized weed and vaporizers were encouraged, they could decrease health risks and make money, wouldn't that work?
Work.. that's starting in an hour or so. I'm glad I've finally bonded with 'Tida', the 18 year old chef who's taught me to make Lok Lak, Spicy Khmer chicken salad and coconut curry, easy and delicious! She doesn't speak much English but can play connect 4, snap and now backgammon :) - it was funny trying to teach someone a game without words, if everyone learnt sign language our troubles would be over. I washed my hands and little brown specs came out in the water - gross. The other day a mate told me that when it rains and the tanks overflow the sewage mixes into the water tanks.. hmm.. we're not dead yet i guess?

The puppies are tumbling around the place like 19 year old boys and the kittens are in their box. Yesterday J and I went to check out all the other beaches in the area. Rife with tacky, expensive Russian resorts and empty beaches we swam and played. On the way we explored an empty club that had a huge airplane in the middle of it and the DJ booth had been modeled out of the front of a truck - bizarre. We drove on and stopped to watch the baby monkeys jump around clumsily hanging off the netting attached to a nearby tree. The dogs are barking again - I can't tell you the amount of dog politics around here - the beach dogs control the turf. The other night we were driving back, after my usual 10 minutes of paranoia as I looked around for the policeman that would stop us, the guy that would mug us and the bump that would make us crash again. A mad-eyed dog started chasing the bike and we zoomed down the bumpy dust road to Sunshine, eventually losing it. We returned to meet a man that like was on the run for a longer stretch of time, from the Thai and Cambodian governments.. I shiver to think what I'd do in that situation..

Swimming this morning was beautiful, diving below the surface to swim alongside a camouflaged crab as it scuttled over a piece of white coral and dissapeared into the surrounding blur. It's almost Saturday but the Otress market isn't on anymore. I remember at the last one, during one of the performances, as though in a dream everyone's eyes became transfixed on the petite, enchanting blonde with the hula hoop infront of the stage, she spun it and danced with it, curling her body to every beat played on stage it was amazing. After the act we went over to the stalls, buying a backgammon board made out of scraps of hammocks from all over India to assist us on our travels. I fancy a game now before getting on our feet again - tough life.

Recipe of the day: Lok-Lak

http://www.food.com/recipe/beef-lok-lak-cambodian-recipe-496461

A bumpy start

The little Laotian lady & J's injured arm

Our first meal by the riverside

The tables seem to have turned concerning a number of things. 1) I started off travelling with 1 girl and 1 boy.. crazy J. came a long and the female vibes just kept coming. Now, I'm one girl in a group of 10 lads. "It's like a fucking Forest down south, can I borrow your razor?", "RUGBY TIME!", "Beer, beer, beer!". I exaggerate slightly because they're all genuine and wouldn't hurt a fly but it's a funny turn of events. 2) We left Vietnam expecting calm and tranquil. I've picked up a tummy bug (sticking to a vegetarian diet for once) and on one of our slowest motorbike excursions so far, we skidded on a dirt road and managed to land ourselves in the hospital for the second time in an hour. The doctor looked happy as our money bags jingled in regret. I sat on the ledge watching J. on the bed nearest to me and a little boy on the one furthest away, both being stitched up. I sat there with a few cuts and bruises, tears streaming down my face as I swelled with the pain of J's arm, and the little boys foot on the other side of the room. The little boy had his eyes squeezed tight as they ruthlessly clamped down his legs to stop him from squirming. I attempted to distract J. from his pain by talking to him about home, mum and dad and his best mates back in Aus. choking on my own tears didn't seem to help the situation. I held my thumbs up and strained a smile to the little boy on the other side of the room to keep his spirits up, but mine weren't in full functioning order either so the attempt was in vain. The nurse came around and squirted some white alcoholic solution on my cuts and bruises and after a quick job (that turned out to be infected only days later), the doctor wished us good luck, put on his jacket and walked out. I turned to the window behind me to see the other boys waiting patiently, rolling around in wheelchairs, it made me grin. I just didn't understand where all this bad karma was coming from. Only hours before I'd been lying here having a blood test to check whether I had malaria or not (thankfully it's just food poisoning) and wanting to just be cradled and looked after..Lying in a hospital bed is never fun, i could just think of how only weeks earlier I'd been lying in one in KL, hospital environments are just so unnatural. The smell, the equipment, the people, the energy. Thankfully the blood test came back negative for malaria, and while the doctor attempted to convince me to have various stomach scans that would cost a ridiculous sum of money, I payed what I owed and left with a sigh of relief that it was only food poisoning and I wouldn't have to admit defeat and fly home in a few days time.  It was only until later that we saw it as a sign that R&R was in need. A few days of no drinking or doing, just settling for a little. It was ironic that on our day of recovery i watched the clip my mum had sent me a few weeks earlier, that was so appropriate for the situation (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lx-AtPKWf9k&feature=share&list=UU1KIUp4PNCyIwCPTq1hYzWQ). One of the best things I got from it, besides a lifted spirit, was reaching enlightenment is like learning how to surf in a sea of waves. The waves can be both good and bad, sometimes you catch a great one and ride it for a while, and other times you tumble under the surface. You can't convince yourself you're always in a happy place because it's cruel to deny the dark side of the yin-yang. It bought me to the thought of intuition.. Just before the crash happened I was holding onto the back of the bike, imagining a scene in which we'd skid around a dirt corner and topple over, brushing off the thought with a shake of my head. Only minutes later did it actually occur and I was suddenly lying ontop of J. our wheel spinning and a dust cloud settling over us. I rolled over with a bruised knee and the boys all pulled up, gaping at the scene. J. pulled his sleeve up to reveal a deep gash, more were to be found on his hip and grazes in various other parts. We groggily drove back to the hospital, the thought of biking through the rest of the country losing all appeal.

Me and 'Mama'

The bus ride earlier wasn't fun either, sitting on bags of hard rice as we rocked side to side, the number of passengers increasing constantly and the number of goods (whether it be chickens, cabbages or potatoes, they just kept on coming). The pangs in my stomach would come and go in waves and I attempted to breathe into them and continue discussion with the boys or nod off to sleep against the hard glass window.. neither of them really working as good methods of distraction. We arrived and got into a tuk-tuk to get to the strip of guesthouses that we hopped between before settling on first one we'd seen. 4 in one room, 3 in another.. a few valium later I was passed out and in a happy place, the pain temporarily gone for the time being..
Laos had started with a bang and now we were at a crash. We'd began in a little border-town village that was tranquil and cheap, exactly what we needed. We stayed at a little guesthouse on the edge of the Mekong and after a swim with the locals, we checked out the town to take a few snaps and get a feel for where we now were. Passing an internet cafe with huddles of boys playing 'WOW' and 'Runescape' - it's funny how no matter what country you're in, the universal habits stay the same. At our guesthouse every night, there was a huge 'family dinner' for everyone staying there. Unlimited vegetarian food piled on plates that you helped yourself to, a long with unlimited shots of their local rice wine, that they continuously filled up during the meal. When the staff had gone to bed, they curiously placed 2 full bottles on our table, and left the fridge full of beer, unlocked (not smart when there's a group of drunk tourists stumbling around). We conversed with our new french friends, a drunk mix of languages spanning the room while we slurred words about a trek we were all set to do early the next morning (which of course never ended up happening, given that we were breathing rice wine till well into the afternoon). After a few days there and enough shots of rice wine we moved on to the next town, checking we hadn't left anything behind this time.

As we sat and ate our meals, Jack turned around to brush away a 'mosquito' that he heard in his ear. Only to realize it was another of the little old Laotian women wearing traditional dress and chewing beatle nut, making their funny 'shh shh shh' noises and trying to sell us 'bracelets'. After a few 'no no's' they opened their little bags to reveal huge bags of weed and little packets of opium. They'd go as far as to stuff it under your T-Shirt to get you to buy their (disappointing) products. I laughed as they tried to convince Jn. (a policeman in training) to buy their class A drugs.. but a few poppy fumes did help lighten the pain, only in Laos. We later bumped into our french friends from the first town, who'd made the trek the next morning, and spent the evening discussing picking clementines in Corsica  the next move on my agenda when I return to Europe. We all groggily got into bed, talking about aliens, the supernatural and how crazy the concept of wiki-leaks was, before drifting into a deep and beautiful slumber.

We didn't want to hold back our boys so for the day they went Kayaking while we rested and recovered.. before booking our tickets for the 'long boat' to Luang Prabang, our next stop. I'd been 2 years ago so was interested to see how different it'd be without the family, nice restaurants and no budget. We'd lost one of our boys N. who'd just finished his national service in the Israeli army and had a limited travel period so had to move faster than us, hence the group had shrunk again, (which did make it slightly easier to keep track of everyone.) We'd missed check-out time again, and were waved off by a hard-faced woman who was running the guesthouse (but I could understand as a single woman running a guesthouse you'd have to be on the ball the whole time, especially when people don't follow instructions, we couldn't exactly expect a friendly response).While on the bus, going up a fairly steep hill, we suddenly came to a halt as the engine stopped working and we narrowly escaped a crash with a local truck full of people. We began rolling backwards before the driver cleverly started the bus in reverse and we continued on, sighing in relief that this wasn't the end of our journey (for the second time). I'd stopped taking all the pills i'd been prescribed, my tummy ache was easing (ironically) and my mood was lighter. J. and I played word association games and laughed non-stop as the rest of the crew nodded off to their music.We had a quick toilet-break before the 7 hour boat ride, seeing the sign 'pay for toilet' annoying everyone. I hate it when they expect you to pay for something that's so basic and necessary. So everyone turned the corner and went in the bushes behind the facility.. almost expecting to see 'pay money' signs behind the bushes.

Coffee and Cigs

The long-boat was great fun. We motored along slowly, watching locals wash rice by the sides of the Mekong  pink water buffalo lapping water on the rocks and little boys frolicking by the sand as the older men stood behind them patiently with fishing lines. We read books, snoozed, jammed with guitars and harmonica's, sketched and talked. The time flew by and we were soon at the next town, that bordered Thailand 'Houeiai', where we stayed at 'BAP' guesthouse that was recommended in lonely planet. The woman running the guesthouse told us to call her 'mama', and was adamant that if we left we weren't allowed to come back. 'That's not fair mama' I said, 'no no you no say that's not fair, you go you no come back!' She made us laugh and obviously knew how to run a business. We played a new Spanish card game that night 'Escola', had some Lao tea and fresh mango while watching the sun set behind the red hills in Thailand (that was only 100m away across the Mekong). We then moved on to 'Pakbeng', the next town, before we caught the second-half of our long-boat journey to LP. A man stood where we arrived, with a sign saying 'BuonMey guesthouse' and shouting 'Bone me! Bone me!' that made us all giggle childishly. On the back of the sign was crossed out 'happy shakes, opium shakes, happy pancakes, opium pancakes' and that made us laugh even harder. We followed him up to his guesthouses, he'd sold it well, an odd character, completely ADD and switching between mocking English accents, to telling everyone to 'shut-up!' to giggling hysterically. I couldn't keep up. A group of others followed him as well  they'd pre-booked and weren't impressed with the steep walk up the hill, not what they'd read in the description when they were promised a 'free-ride to the guesthouse'. His excuse being 'oh the bus was late'. He claimed his name was 'Marco Polo' and we soon realized, like his name, his pitch was a scam as well  The rooms were dingy, the hot water didn't work, the extra bed never came, the happy shakes weren't happy enough and half the items on the menu were 'unavailable'. We still fell asleep happy that night, discussing childhood memories of 'Clifford the big red dog, spot, smurfs, Baba the elephant, Postman Pat' and so many more that bought fond smiles to our faces. Jn. smiling more than he had been 20 minutes ago when he'd discovered the giant spider in the corner of our bathroom (his one weakness besides heights).

Our make-shift meals on the boatride

We were awoken for the second half of the long-boat journey earlier than we'd have liked, with a bang on the door from 'Marco Polo', "GET UP! BOAT LEAVING!" We quickly ordered our fried rice, fruits and snacks to take on the boat, trying to avoid the extortionate rates that they tried to charge us. The first day we'd made make-shift meals of sticky rice, cans of tuna, soup from pot noodles.. borrowing bowls and cutlery off of our new Lao friends sitting in front of us, that were more than happy to practice their English as we tried to slip in a few words of Laotian. On the boat I thought back on all the people we'd met so far and how many had left their mark.. one in particular eliciting a furrowed brow .. the man we'd met in Nha Trang, Vietnam. He was 57 and had been in the British army, working as a sniper for the last 22 years. I remember talking to him over buckets of alcohol, crying as I watched the pain in his face as he told us about his best friend dying in his arms, the children he'd seen shot by their parents, the missions he'd had to be on and the amount of people he'd had to kill. The shadow loomed over him but rays of light still shined. The one most harrowing story he told me was of the brothel he'd had to break into. The men running it would sexually abuse girls from the ages of 7 - 20 before killing them and roasting their heads on spits, he'd killed each man involved and told us this with shaking hands and salty tears. J. and I couldn't imagine the pain he'd been through, and felt lucky to live so free of so much trauma and death, inspired by his strength we felt like that was the most we'd gained from any conversation at 'Why Not Bar' so far..

The boat ride passed faster than the previous one, I closed my eyes and 'a minute' later, we were already in in L.P, the French colonial buildings greeting us on arrival - I love this town, a world heritage site with no loud traffic, noisy rude people or big buses. We Followed our friends advice and trekked with other groups of backpackers to 'Spicy Lao', the hostel everyone was staying at. The adventures of which will be saved for the next post..

Recipe of the day: Laotian prawn curry

http://anhsfoodblog.com/2007/01/coconut-love-laotian-prawn-curry.html/