It’s hard to decide where this story starts, but I suppose the root lies here: truth be told, we’re all a little sick of Phnom Penh. Sure, it’s a great place to take a break, but there’s really only so much you can do there without getting a little jaded about life in the Bode. Don’t get me wrong, you don’t see that stopping me from bouncing in whenever I need a fix of Western food and friends … but when Goy called early this month to say he could spend his birthday in Cambodia, I knew we needed to do something special. And what sounds better than a weekend at the beach? Fresh seafood? Fresh air? Warm water and lots of sun? Yes, please! …But Murphy’s Law prevails and we were in for one wild ride. Literally.
Birthday celebration destination: Sihanoukville. Dani, Tara, Scott, Steve, and I all met in Phnom Penh the Saturday of his arrival, checked in and started making the usual rounds around town. Clearly we’d need some Fat Boy Subs and Snow Yogurt before we could do anything else. Check and check. I should have known we’d be in for an adventure when Goy called to say he missed his flight and would have to catch a later plane, but he arrived with no further delay just in time for his birthday and a warm welcome from yours truly. We were off to the beach in no time and I figured the rest of the trip would be smooth sailing. About an hour into the bus ride, it started to rain.
I know what you’re thinking – well, its rainy season, what did you expect? But usually the rain comes in squalls for an hour each afternoon and then stops. This was different. Once it started it never stopped. Four hours later, it was still raining when we got off in Sihanoukville. When we finally got to our hotel -- soaked to the bone and sloshing through shin-deep puddles -- I told Goy he had officially experienced Cambodia at its finest. We waited the rain out, and then headed into town for dinner and drinks.
We got our fix of seafood overlooking the ocean and white sand, eating and chatting until the rain picked up again. Surely it couldn’t keep raining all night, could it? We laughed, fended off beach urchins, and pretended to be beach bums until we caught a break and could make a run for a little bar called Utopia. It certainly lived up to its name … or it certainly would have had it not been pouring. Despite the rain, the twinkle lights were just as bright, and I was just as terrible at pool as ever. We toasted to Goy’s birthday and made the most of the soggy evening, although we were all a little subdued due to the weather.
The next morning it was still raining, but the sky looked promising. We enjoyed a relaxing brunch and then – miraculously – the skys brightened a little so we could go swimming. It was still spitting, but the waves were perfect and the sand was soft. We all jumped waves and body surfed until we needed ice cream, then headed onshore to refuel. As always, the weekend was passing too quickly and we needed to catch the afternoon bus out. By 2:15, we got word that no buses would be leaving and we’d be stuck there for two days.
The what? Two days? Surely this was some tourist trap to keep us here an extra few days? It wasn’t even raining at this point! We found several taxi drivers willing to take us for a small fortune, but it seemed like the buses were truly out of service. Just as I was about to hit panic mode, we found a driver willing to take us for a reasonable(ish) price, but warned us that the roads were flooded and he couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to get us across the bridges? Yeah, yeah – whatever. These people drive through ANYTHING.
Off we went. We made it about half way before we started seeing rapids. On the road. The right side of the road was flooded over onto the pavement, making it look like we were driving through a small network of lakes. All in all, we weren’t worried – there were tons of cars and even a few buses on the road, so surely there couldn’t be a huge problem. That was until we got to the barricades. From that point forward, the roads were truly submerged. The end of the new “river” was nowhere in sight, and there were makeshift boats and jet skis running across like ferries carrying hundreds of waiting people to the other side.
We bargained, we begged, and pleaded and finally got ourselves on a boat. Of course, the boat almost capsized, of course we were ankle deep in sludge, and of course we were getting hopeless ripped off, but at least we were going. We made it safely to the other side and easily found a van to take us the rest of the way to Phnom Penh. Never mind, they crammed 18 people into the van – all of whom wanted to touch us and discuss how we ever came to be on a Khmer shared taxi. Ah yes, the sweet smell of humanity … and wet feet.
By the time we got to Phnom Penh I had officially decided Lara Croft can keep her tomb raining. But it was certainly an adventure to remember. We spent another very comparatively calm evening in Phnom Penh laughing about our luck on dry land. Of all the weekends to rain…it had to be that one. But you know what they say: It’s not the destination that counts, it’s the journey, and who you travel with!
p.s. Unfortunately I didn't take pics this weekend ... didn't need my camera floating away too. :(
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