Something about not needing to get up early and having no agenda makes the body rise with ease as does the sun. I am up to see the early morning light through my blue tinted glass sliding door and though a bit sweaty, as the fans turn off with the electricity at day break, I feel pretty good.
I know I need sustenance and there is a dining area a few bungalows down that sits over the water at (Matt) Saracen Resort, last time, I promise.
I order an "American Breakfast" for a change and pray my funds hold out until I am back on solid land.
My camera is behaving tempormentaly and I fear I won't have a functioning one for all, if not some of the remaining trip. I do, however, take this in stride. My legs are so insect bite ridden that Helen Keller could read my fortune and I only have $40 to last me while I am here. I believe there is a point when Murphy's Law is so deeply ingrained in your life that it is ALMOST amusing. I am choosing here to be amused.
I don't care what anyone says about Americans being loud and brash and obnoxious. Mix that with no regard for others on the road and no sense of personal space and you have the Chinese tourist, impervious to cultural acclimation or volume control.
My American breakfast is American priced and subpar, but food is food and I move on, down the beach as I resort hop. Please note that resorts on Koh Rong Samleon are not "resorts" any other place you've ever been. Resorts here are accomodation and it would seem that most house their own restaurant or bar and, along with beautiful temperatures and access to the beach that is what this island offers.
Around 4pm I decide to head to Lazy Beach. The remote beach on a remote island, located a few kilomteres through the jungle on the West side of the island. A quick nature hike through the jungle in my chucks, a Yankees hat and a bikini - I can hear Helen Reddy amongst the screaming monkeys and the squealing crickets.
Once the jungle parts ways there is an oasis; there is Lazy Beach.
It is breathtaking.
I essentially run to the sea, sticky from my hike, drop my belongings and plunge in. It is me, and the bay and no one else.
I have become so spoiled by the beauty of the world. So used to seeing new, far off places that every so often I do try to take a moment and really soak in that I am out in the Gulf of Thailand on a beautiful afternoon swimming in the sea. It is a palpable moment for me, and one I savor.
As I drag my drenched body back up to the shore the Lazy Beach resort - a series of huts on the beach with a main lobby that is an outdoor-hammock-chill sort of getwaway presents itsself and I immediately see the British bloke, Gary, from the night before.
I ask if I may join him and we settle in to listen to Bonobo on the soundsystem and watch the sun sink beneath the clouds. I order a Lazy Sunset, the girliest drink on their menu and later fish and chips because I am pretending to be adventurous and eat fish caught just outside but also getting it fried so it mostly just takes like fried. The cocktail is ok and remains half drunk, as is the marlin, when my British bud and I have covered everything from childhood trauma to cycling in France and make our way back to the East side through the jungle.
The moment I saw Gary in this particular gin joint I knew I would later be using him as accompaniment through the jungle. I was uneasy walking through during the broad daylight, but it is now dark. The sun is long gone, but the creatures are not and CalTrans has yet to set up any roadside spotlights for tourists here. I am scared. Legitimately scared and the fact that homeboy thinks every stick is a Boa Constrictor is not helping.
The moment I saw Gary in this particular gin joint I knew I would later be using him as accompaniment through the jungle. I was uneasy walking through during the broad daylight, but it is now dark. The sun is long gone, but the creatures are not and CalTrans has yet to set up any roadside spotlights for tourists here. I am scared. Legitimately scared and the fact that homeboy thinks every stick is a Boa Constrictor is not helping.
Half way through I realize that this city girl does have some country in her, or at least some iPhone in her...bag. Thank you Steve Jobs for putting a flashlight on your iPhone. It only took me 5 years to figure out how to use this feature, but man is it helpful when traversing the dark unknown.
We exit at the beach, lit up blue by the moonlight and make a right at Octopussy bar back to Blue Green, where Gary is staying and I am using electricity before returning to my hovel. Some approximation of iced tea is served and some more opposite of small talk is had before we both walk way out to the ocean, the cosmic pull having brought it what seems like miles from shore and bathe our feet in the warm night before saying out goodbyes. Two kisses, one on each cheek, just like the French do it and a sincere thank you for sharing your time on this tiny island with me.
iPhone flashlight
Another hike back. A quick shower and a revisiting of Noah's Arc, a little show on Logo 10 years ago and the only videos I have on my phone. Who doesn't like watching a situational comedy about 4 black gay men in Hollywood before nodding off?
And again, early to rise.
Another hike back. A quick shower and a revisiting of Noah's Arc, a little show on Logo 10 years ago and the only videos I have on my phone. Who doesn't like watching a situational comedy about 4 black gay men in Hollywood before nodding off?
And again, early to rise.
I check out of Freedom, not knowing exactly what my next move is but knowing my camera is working occasionally at best and my funds are rapidly dwindling - you try PMSing on a budget!
This time at Saracen Resort I opt for a more traditional Asian breakfast and I am not disappointed. With excellent Wifi I chat with a friend back home, the kind of friend that makes you feel at home even when you're 9000 miles away (yeah, thats you, Holly) and I plot my course of action.
An arbitrary booking for a room at the Orchid Resort a mile down the beach is made and I have made my choice - to stay in Koh Rong Samleon, for at least another day.
The morning consisted of a chat with one of my oldest and dearest friends Holly and my internal calculator working overtime while figuring out whether or not the cash I had on hand could get me through another day.
This island is a place so quiet the insects omit a deafining noise.
Dexter, Frank, Zak and Gary.
No, these are not the new fangled members of New Edition. These are the four man who helped me through my journey.
This trip has been a particularly tough one for me and the kindness of these strangers, whether for a plane ride or just a walk on the beach helped me survive. Helped me in ways they will never know. And for that I am grateful.
No, these are not the new fangled members of New Edition. These are the four man who helped me through my journey.
This trip has been a particularly tough one for me and the kindness of these strangers, whether for a plane ride or just a walk on the beach helped me survive. Helped me in ways they will never know. And for that I am grateful.
I love this place. I love the magical beach. The sea filled with fish just like the ones I used to own and name and become fond of right before they took their final swim down the porcelain shoot in my father's bathroom.
Having waited a bit too long to traverse the island back to my humble abode it is dusk and the monkeys are squawking - and I am scared.
The evening is spent PMSing on a huge fruit plate at the Orchid while writing and watching 'The Voice - Cambodia' - or so it sounds.
That night I am met with a hot shower - for what feels like the first time in ages. Hallelujah.
As wonderful as my room for the evening is with all it's rustic charm, the walls are thing and the sext door neighbors rowdy. I couldn't quite tell what they were doing from the noises emitting through the wooden slats separating us. But I can attest to the fact that they kept me up - and made me sufficiently uncomfortable.
Luckily I slept. Luckily I survived.
Luckily I slept. Luckily I survived.
Few things in life or more powerful than listening to Leonard Cohan on a white sand beach at sunrise.
The morning offered an amazing sunrise and a moment of peave.
After checking out the morning is spent watching the proverbial pot boil or, as is the case here - waiting for my boat to come. Just when I think it never will I am directed several hundred yards down the beach where a refugee dinghe is schleping visitors to shore.
Travel at it's finest.
This means I had a couple more hours to luxuriate, check my internet goings on and figure out where I will be spending the evening at the Blue Green.
Travel at it's finest.
This means I had a couple more hours to luxuriate, check my internet goings on and figure out where I will be spending the evening at the Blue Green.
I almost book a dorm at Otres Beach, then think about shared bathroom. Getting older is a beautiful thing in many ways. Not physically sure - but it does allow you some perspective and often a few extra sheckles to spend on a private commode. Decision made. Pineapple juice consumed and my LL Bean bag and I board the dinghe headed back to the mainland.
As the ship about faces I was truly sad. 4 days ago now seemed like a lifetime and I have grown to love this tiny island upon which I only spent a few days of my life. By sometimes that's all you need
I mount the stairs to the top level of the boat - trying to get every UV ray possible to permeate the outer layer of my epidermus and who do I happen upon than a nice looking fellow sporting a brightly colored LA hat.
The hour or so boat ride back goes by in a flash as I chat with this amiable man in his mid 30s who lives in the UK but claims South Africa as his home - creating an interesting accent and an interesting perspective on life.
We make dinner plans and as he boars the shuttle bus, I hop on my own personal tuk tuk out toward the beach. Along the ride we putter past the police hut where I was incarcerated for many moments and I am forced to relive this painful experience all over again.
After a long and winding ride I land at Footprints Hostel at Otres Beach 2 which will be where I will be living - at least for the night.
Perhaps it is aftershocks from the hallucination I had last night where a man came to my window banging in the middle of the night only to wake me, rouse me from my bed and, when I reached the glass door disappear, leaving me shaken and disturbed, but this day has been exhausting.
As I settle into Footprints one thought meanders through my mind. My Dad was right, beauty fades with happiness, not with age.
The hour or so boat ride back goes by in a flash as I chat with this amiable man in his mid 30s who lives in the UK but claims South Africa as his home - creating an interesting accent and an interesting perspective on life.
We make dinner plans and as he boars the shuttle bus, I hop on my own personal tuk tuk out toward the beach. Along the ride we putter past the police hut where I was incarcerated for many moments and I am forced to relive this painful experience all over again.
After a long and winding ride I land at Footprints Hostel at Otres Beach 2 which will be where I will be living - at least for the night.
Perhaps it is aftershocks from the hallucination I had last night where a man came to my window banging in the middle of the night only to wake me, rouse me from my bed and, when I reached the glass door disappear, leaving me shaken and disturbed, but this day has been exhausting.
As I settle into Footprints one thought meanders through my mind. My Dad was right, beauty fades with happiness, not with age.
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