The Cu Chi tunnels and a visit to the circus

We grabbed a fruit shake at Cafe Sinh To this morning before arriving at the T.M. Brothers office for our 1 day tour to the Cao Dai Temple and Cu Chi Tunnels, only to be told that the tour we'd booked wasn't running because we were the only two people to have booked it! Perfect time to break the news. It was too late to book a similar tour with an alternative company, so we had to take the only option being offered to us, which was to join the half day tour to the Cu Chi Tunnels.

So we hopped on the bus (which was half an hour late leaving) and headed on our way. Our guide was a 55 year old long haired war and prison veteran who called himself "Survivor" (for obvious reasons - he spent 6 years serving in the Vietnam war, 3 years in prison, and 1 year uncovering land mines : 10 years of living on life's knife edge) and kept following each piece of information with the question, "do you know what I mean?" in a thick Vietnamese accent.

We arrived firstly at a place where we watched rice paper being made, had a close up look at a rice plant, and witnessed the usage of a machine which separates the rice grains from the kernels. We then continued along to the tunnels themselves. Ben Duoc Tunnel is part of the Cu Chi tunnel network which is situated 70km north west of Ho Chi Minh City. Contrary to the information contained within the latest Lonely Planet guide to Vietnam (which states that the tunnels actually ran from Ho Chi Minh City to the Cambodian border), our guide informed us that the tunnels stretched for 250km in a winding network beneath the town of Cu Chi. The tunnels were built on three different levels - at 3m, 6m and 10m below ground level - and were in use for 26 years, from 1949 until the war ended in 1975. They are an architectural monument set deep in the earth and included sections for living, dining, meeting and fighting.

As we entered the site of the Ben Duoc tunnel, we watched a DVD detailing the history of the tunnels and were given a 'Dia Dao Cu Chi' sticker, and as the entire bus load of us were guided through the site, I felt like I was re-living my childhood as a 10 year old on a school trip. The tour was interesting and our guide knowledgable and informative, but I felt more like part of a process rather than an individual. Many of the tourists had the opportunity to squeeze themselves into the first hidden tunnel and have their photograph taken as they disappeared into the ground, but when you're 3 rows back in a group full of about 40 other people and pushing rudely to the front is not a idea practised back in your country, the opportunity for me to do this was taken away almost as quickly as it presented itself.

After learning about the various different traps set up for the soldiers and witnessing waxwork models recreating life within the tunnels, we were finally given the chance to enter one of the remaining tunnels. The 500m stretch of the surviving underground network was a lot smaller than I'd imagined so manouvering my way through required me to either crawl or to squat right down with my heels touching my bum and walk along on my feet, which gave the calves and thighs a good work out! When we reached the end of the poorly lit and exasperatingly hot tunnel, we were all presented with a well needed cup of Vietnamese tea and a snack of sweet potato sticks and crushed peanuts.

We arrived back in Ho Chi Minh City at 2:30pm and were met with a beautiful lunch spread of spring rolls, fried rice and noodles. There was no mention of this being included in the tour so it was a pleasant and welcomed surprise and went some way towards compensating for the disorganisational error with our orginal tour.

This evening was the final evening Kotoe and I would spend together, as she only has 2 weeks in Vietnam (any longer and she's also need to apply for a visa like us Brits) so she's heading north and I'm sticking around to do a tour of the Mekong Delta, We shared a litre or two of beer Hoi at the street cafe next to our guesthouse and I met one of Vietnam's Easy Riders (a group of guys from the central highlands who run motorbike tours around the area) from Dalat who gave me his business card. We then - upon a strong recommendation from John and Jasmin last night - paid a visit to the circus. The company were visiting Ho Chi Minh City for 2 nights in celebration of Liberation Day - 31 years since the fall of Saigon. It was a brilliant and original experience (with the exception of the performing elephants and monkeys) full of vibrance, colour and diversity, and was a fantastic and memorable way to spend our last night together.

I'll miss Kotoe. It's been great to have had company for so long from someone I now consider to be a good friend. Kotoe's a genuine, down to earth, intelligent, funny, and quirky (and a little bit crazy!) girl and we've got a lot in common (apart from the speed at which we conduct our travel ; I'd call it laziness, she's call it being sensible and not running yourself into the ground!). Considering that we were complete strangers prior to travelling together, and that travelling together meant spending time with each other 24/7, we made pretty compatible travelling companions, and I shall always look back on the experiences we shared together with a very large smile on my face.

Photo to follow.

The atrocities of war and a hilarious beer drinking session with John & Jasmin

Lonely Planet could indeed have been correct when they described Cafe Sinh To as having "the best fruit shakes in Pham Ngu Lao." The menu is extensive and includes rambutans, dragon fruit, avocado, taroroot, and green dragon (whatever that may be!) and all for only 5000VND. You can even mix 2 or 3 of your favourites for exactly the same price. So this is where I chose to have my breakfast while I waited for Kotoe to wake up.

When she arrived we had more or less decided to take a cyclo ride around the city with a driver who I warmed to due to his cheerful nature, enthusiasm, knowledge and eagerness to please his prospective customers. However I assumed that the cyclos seated two people (as they do in Cambodia) and that the $7 he quoted us was for the both of us. They don't and it wasn't, and unfortunately neither of us could afford to pay $7 each, plus the entry fees to the museums we wanted to visit. I felt terrible watching his endearing smile so quickly disappear when I broke the news to him.

Instead we hired a couple of moto drivers for the day at a price of $3.50 each. They drove us firstly to the War Remnants Museum, which was opened to the public on September the 4th 1975. The outer grounds are home to a collection of U.S armoured vehicles, artillery pieces, bombs and infantry weapons. There is also a model of the tiger cages used by the south Vietnamese Military to house Viet Cong prisoners on Con Son Island, and a guillotine used by the French on Viet Minh 'troublemakers'.

Inside there are photographic exhibitions displaying the atrocities of war. Many photographs illustrating U.S atrocities are from U.S sources, including photos of the infamous My Son massacre and a pignant black and white photo of a G.I from the 25th Infantry division with a satisfied grin on his face as he carries the mangled body of a grenade victim. A further exhibition 'Requiem' displays a collection of photos taken by 134 war reporters (from 11 nationalities) who were killed during the Vietnam war. Finally there are pictures taken by Japanese reporters Ishikawa Bunyo and Nakamura Goro, including dioxin (agent orange) victims and those wounded and deformed by napalm and nail bombs. Visiting the museum is a disturbing experience but it's a poignant reminder of the brutality of war and a vital lesson in the understanding of Vietnam's history.

We were next driven to the far western side of the city, to Giac Lam Pagoda, which dates from 1744 and is believed to be the oldest pagoda in Ho Chi Minh City. The main sanctuary is filled with countless gilden figures, lamps and miniature statues of Bodhisattvas, and although it's a very beautiful place, it did remind me of being in an old antiques market! The Jade Emporer Pagoda was our final stop before lunch. It was built in 1909 by the Cantonese congregation and is an incredibly colourful Chinese temple. It contains statues of ghostly divinities, grotesque heroes and decorative wood carvings, and the strong aroma of burning incense follows you wherever you tread. In the garden is a couple of lotus flower ponds containing coi carp and turtles.

Our drivers took us for a lunch of Pho and Vietnamese tea at a local restaurant, where the tiniest, most delicate little tom cat was finding his feet as we entered. After re-fuelling, we made our final stop of the day at the History Museum, which has an excellent collection of artifacts illustrating the evolution of cultures in Vietnam. Still getting used to the local currency upon our return, I almost started a full blown argument with my moto driver because i mistook the 50,000VND note he gave me as change for a 5000VND note! Easy mistake, I was profusely apologetic and he - fortunately - saw the funny side . . .

In the evening we ate at Lac Viet, one of the cheaper Vietnamese eateries down a little alley off Phan Ngu Lao. I ordered chinese spinach (which is actually morning glory) with garlic and cheese, and a drink, and it came to the grand total of 15,000VND - under a dollar. After the meal we decided to wander around the shops in order to make room for a beer or two. We walked past one of the numerous stores selling knock off North Face and Berghaus rucksacks and backpacks and spotted the British couple we'd crossed the border with from Laos to Cambodia. We'd previously bumped into them twice in Battambang and thus shared a joke about the fact that we were stalking them, so I crept up behind them until I was close enough to utter the words, "found you!"

We subsequently joined them for a few litres of Bia Hoi at a nearby cafe, and I can honestly say it was one of the most entertaining and enjoyable evenings I've had the pleasure of being part of. I cannot remember why but at one point we were trying to explain to Kotoe what an otter was. After comparisons to a small furry sea lion and a large aquatic ferret, and a number of very bad but highly amusing sketches, Kotoe finally understood what creature we were describing! We also solved the mystery of the men on bikes with briefcases and tambourines : they're actually masseurs. We know this because one of the guys sitting next to us stopped one of them and exchanged 10,000VND for a shoulder rub. The couple are called John and Jasmin, and they are two of the coolest, genuine, most entertaining and original people I've met since I've been travelling. We've exchanged email addresses and I seriously hope I run into them again.

Photo is of a statue in the history museum who had Kotoe and I in stitches because he looks like he's on drugs!

Art, artifacts, and kitsch cathedrals

Despite my distinct lack of sleep over the past few nights, I woke up this morning fresh as a daisy. I updated my journal, used the internet and was the majority of the way through my breakfast at the Sinh Cafe before Kotoe surfaced. We set off to Ho Chi Minh City's Fine Art Museum, dodging traffic on the city's crazy roads and passing numerous shoe shops selling knock off Doctor Marten sandals with a ridiculously high $50 price tag.

The Art Museum is housed in a classic yellow and white Asian European style building, which was built by French Architects in the early 20th century. It was previously privately owned by a businessman, Hui Bon Hoa before its conversion. There is an imposing entrance lobby and stairwell, and all work on display is exhibited in several large rooms leading of a couple of long corridors on each floor. The first floor (or ground floor, as is called in Western society) introduces selected works from individual artists, both domestic and international. Much of the work however depicts well known places in Vietnam such as Halong Bay and My Son, or scenes of Vietnamese life. There's a good mix of styles, techniques and genres, as well as a few pieces of modern sculpture. The second floor contains pieces of contemporary art from experienced artists who graduated from Indochina and Gia Dinh Art School, and the third displays collections of antique art (art artifacts and funeral statues) and traditional handicrafts.

Following our enjoyable perusal of the work on display, we took a coffee break at The Garden Cafe in the museum's courtyard. At the moment I am only carrying U.S dollars as currency, and - as I discovered when settling the bill for my iced coffee - this presents you with the following problem :

• Most cafes, restaurants and small shops use the exchange rate of 15,000VND to the dollar (some as little as 13,000VND, as was the case at The Garden Cafe) when the official exchange rate at the bank is a little over 16,000VND to the dollar. Thus you will lose at least 1000VND for each transaction you make.

After having consumed our Ca-fe su-da (iced coffee with milk), we headed over to The Museum of Ho Chi Minh City (not to be confused with The Ho Chi Minh Museum which is soley dedicated to the life of Ho Chi Minh himself), stopping for a browse and a fruit shake at Ben Thanh Market. The Museum of Ho Chi Minh City displays artifacts from the various periods of the communist struggle for power in Vietnam, however many exhibits seemed to have little relevance and the whole tour became very labourious as a result. Considering it's a museum, there were articles on display which i don't consider old enough to be considered 'historical', such as the former British 5 pound note, which only went out of circulation less than a decade ago (i think - correct me if i'm wrong!)

Our plan next was to visit The Re-unification Palace, which Lonely Planet describes as " one of the most fascinating sites in Ho Chi Minh City." However, when we reached the palace gates we were informed by one of the officials that it is in fact closed for refurbishment until June 2006, and a large sign on the wall re-iterated this fact. So instead we continued along to Notre Dam Cathedral, the sky growing rapidly darker as we walked. The cathedral was built between 1877 and 1883, and from the outside the building is a spectuacular piece of work : it is Neo-Romanesque with two 40m high square towers, tipped with iron spires, which dominate the city's skyline. Unfortunately the inside is disastrously kitsch, with 'Ava Maria' illuminated in neon lights at the front of the nave and a statue of the virgin Mary donning an electric blue neon halo.

As soon as we left Notre Dam, the tiny specks of rain landing on my face fell in rising quantities and we soon found ourselves far from home in the middle of a full blown storm. We took shelter inside the Diamond Department Store and spent the next couple of hours trying on silly hats and clothes we couldn't afford, and drinking coffee in the mezzanine cafe next to a couple of young Vietnamese girls who looked like they'd just stepped out of a fashion shoot.

When the worst of the storm was over, we began our journey home. Innumerable puddles had formed on the pavement and someone was wringing the remaing droplets of rain from the clouds. When we got half the way along D Bui Vien (a couple of minutes walk from our guesthouse), the road suddenly disappeared beneath a mass of rain water which covered both the street and the pavement either side. Our only option was to join the Vietnamese and wade through the water, plastic bags and vegetable scraps floating around my feet as i walked. Motorbikes passed me, splashing me with dirty flood water, cyclo drivers in oversized rain macs continued to search for custom, and a lone fruit cart stood unattended at the side of the road, only the top of its wheels visible above the surface of the water. As we neared the turning into D Do Quang Dau, the water suddenly became deeper, touching the bottom of my thighs. It reminded me of being back home in the middle of the October 2000 flood, only the water here was a lot warmer, which made wading through it instantly a more enjoyable experience.

We trawled our sodden feet into Bich Thuy, showered, changed into some clean clothes and headed back out in search of some food. In under an hour the water levels had already dropped substantially, so we were able to make it to Kim's Cafe without getting too wet. Many of the locals were also dining here, which is always a good indicator as to the quality of the food. Indeed it was good and very reasonably priced. I ate fish fried in Vietnamese sauce for 22,000VND and shared some shrimp spring rolls (30,000VND) with Kotoe.

We finished the evening by enjoying a beer Hoi at one of the small street cafes on D Bui Vien and watching snippets of Vietnamese life. The crazy sumo wrestler who we encountered on our arrival showed up on his motorbike to buy fresh crab from the adjacent food vendor and we became increasingly puzzled by the number of men on push bikes shaking tiny bells which sound like tambourines. We noticed that all of them have briefcases strapped to the back of the bike or in the basket on the front, which made us wonder if they were in fact selling something. But what? and why is it never on show? The mystery of the briefcase carrying tambourine men gets curiouser and curiouser . . .

Photo is of the Fine Art Museum, Ho Chi Minh City.

Goodbye Cambodia, hello Vietnam!

In the morning I said my goodbyes to Margaret and set off to find a taxi back to Phnom Penh with Tony, Emma, and Paul. We didn't get further than the bottom of the road before the same moto driver who dropped me at Blissful Guesthouse a couple of days ago stopped us and asked us if we needed a taxi. He wanted $25 but by walking away (it always works!) we got him down to $20 with drop offs right to the door of our guesthouses. It was such a pleasant journey by Cambodian standards : we all had bags of space and we were able to wind the windows right down. Due to the speed our driver was travelling at, we made the journey in a little over 2 hours, nearly running several motorists and the odd cow off the road.

I was met at The Lakeside Guesthouse by the little grinning 'always stoned' member of staff and the words, "ah, you come back!", follwed by a series of incomprehensible mutterings about how good the smoke is! i collected my backpack, checked into our new room, left a note for Kotoe and disappeared into town to collect a few things. When i returned to the guesthouse, Kotoe had arrived from Sihanoukville and was sharing beers and conversation with Scott and Sophie, a newly married couple on their honeymoon. Scott, an Australian originally from Brisbane, met French Canadian Sophie when she was travelling in Australia a few years ago. They were a really nice couple and I especially warmed to Scott. We clicked immediately : he was down to earth, open, intelligent, amusing, and a little bit cheeky, and talking to him felt like talking to one of my best friends back home.

Kotoe and I returned to La Dolce Vita for our last meal in Cambodia. The cheerful chef remembered us, as we'd complimented him on the food last time we visited. I ordered the same eggplant dish and Kotoe joined me. I wish I'd taken down the name of the dish, as all I can remember was that it was number 25 on the Khmer menu! Kotoe was feeling pretty tired before the meal and having a full stomach afterwards made her even more lethargic, so I left her sleeping in the room whilst I joined Scott and Sophie out on the veranda. The three of us had such a good giggle, swapped travel tips and stories, and played some of our favourite tunes on the very irritatingly faulty guesthouse C.D player. When we finally retired to our beds, the stoned guy was asleep just behind us, wrapped in a foetal position around a large plant pot.

The next morning, after two early starts in Kampot, dragging myself out of bed in time to catch the 6:30am bus to Ho Chi Minh City was not a concept I welcomed with open arms. The 8 hour journey (cost $4, booked through The Lakeside Guesthouse) was comfortable and surprisingly easy. As I entered Vietnam at Moc Bai, it felt almost like I was at an airport : the complex there is on a massive scale in comparison to anything I've seen in Thailand, Laos or Cambodia, you are required to produce your passport on four separate occasions, and your bags are passed through a security check before you are permitted to enter the country.

Once we'd all obtained our official entry stamp, we were separated into two smaller groups and continued our journey in an oversized minibus with a crazy Vietnamese guy who called himself Peace and fancied himself as the next Michael Jackson. We were dropped off right in the middle of the backpackers ghetto along Phan Ngu Lao Street and right outside his travel agency, Hanh Cafe, where we were allowed to leave our backpacks whilst we trawled around the streets in search of accommodation. It seems that, unless you're prepared to share a dorm room, $6 is the cheapest going rate even for a single room in Vietnam. We managed to get a room at Bich Thuy Guesthouse discounted to $5 by turning down the complimentary breakfast they offer each morning. I'm not sure how long I'm staying in Ho Chi Minh City and I figured that a breakfast of noodle soup (which is all that was on offer at Bich Thuy) may get a little boring after the first few days.

Whilst we were hunting for accommodation, a fat shirtless Vietnamese man ran at Kotoe with the crazed expression of a Maori warrior and proceeded to play fight in the style of a sumo wrestler. He had us both in stitches but after our experiences with Michael 'Peace' Jackson on the bus journey over, it did leave me with the impression that the Vietnamese people are all a little crazy in the head!

Once we'd settled in at Bich Thuy, the night was drawing in. We ate Pho (Vietnamese noodle soup) for dinner at a little local street stall around the corner from our guesthouse, sat on mini plastic chairs which wouldn't seem out of place at a nursery school. The meal cost us 7000DONG each, which is just under $0.50. Afterwards we decided to try one of the local beers (there are many), Bia Hoi, at another of the local's dining establishments where they had a strange combination of pet dogs : a chiwawa, a large dog with short stumpy legs that didn't fit his body, and a little white puppy with a sad face and a bottom that she wiggled seductively as she walked. We ordered 2 Bia Hoi (at a cost of 3500DONG each), thinking that what we'd actually ordered was 2 pints, but when it arrived it was actually 2 litres! 3500DONG for a litre of beer goes some way towards compensating for the expensive accommodation costs.

We spent the remainder of the evening wandering around the neon lit streets and perusing the shops, which stayed open well into the night. Kotoe found a couple of book shops which stocked Japanese literature, one of which also contained three of the cutest fluffy white puppies, who were playfully biting each other in the middle of the shop floor.

Photo is of the mother to the adorable fluffy white puppies (who wouldn't stay still for a photo!) in a bookshop in Ho Chi Minh City.

A bumby ride to Bokor and wrestling with a crab at Ta Eou

A generous portion of good fortune and good timing meant that i was able to book a $10 full day tour to Bokor National Park for today. Margaret (a 51 year old Australian social worker who now lives in Montreal, Canada) informed me that the tour had been postponed for the past few days due to a lack of interested parties and bad weather.

Today there were 10 of us on the tour : Margaret, a young British couple called Emma and Tony, 2 more British guys (one called Paul who's actually from Wellington, Shropshire) and 4 other Europeans whose nationality of which i'm unsure. We began the bumpy ride up to Bokor in our 4 x 4 convertible. There were 8 of us and a cool box bouncing around on the back seats as we were driven along a very rocky and unmaintained road full of large craters left by landmines that had been uncovered within the park. The original road was commissioned by the French and completed in 1921, and there are plans to rebuild the road sometime this year. For much of the journey we only caught brief glimpses of the surrounding scenery (which was a dense jungle of plants and the tallest coconut palms I've ever seen, with leaves stretching for several metres and creating a canopy for the vegetation beneath) due to the fact that we were constantly having to avoid the foliage which was in parts, trying to reclaim the road!

Shortly after the road was completed a small community was established at the old French hill station of Bokor, which included a grand colonial hotel - The Bokor Palace - inaugurated in 1925. Located at an altitude of 1000m are the first buildings which made up Sihanouk's villa complex at Bokor, known as the Black Palace. Providing you arrive here before 11am you can see a fantasic view over the coast. After this time an eerie mist moves into the picture, and continues to come and go in a surreal and haunting manner, almost like something out of an old horror movie.

The hill station was twice abandoned, and since the early 1970's it has remained uninhabited, save for the presence of either Vietnamese troups or Khmer Rouge Guerillas during much of the 1980's and 90's. The Bokor Palace is an imposing building and all the more atmospheric for the fact that it remains untouched since its abandonement. The exterior remains intact, save for the usual weathering of the stonework, but inside the walls are crumbling, broken tiles and glass from the windows lie loose on the floor and there is a mass of grafitti everywhere. Most of it is written in English and is the usual pointless, childish crap like "Baz was 'ere", but this one stood out :

"Live your dream; don't dream your life."

It is possible to wander through the kitchens, along the corridors, up and down the stairs and into the enormous ballroom downstairs, imagining the magnificance and grandeur of the hotel in its heyday.

We ate lunch in the ranger station and were joined by the Scotish guy from our guesthouse who'd made the corageous journey up to Bokor on a dirt bike. I got chatting to him over a very tasty vegetable curry with rice and subsequently discovered that he's from my home town of Shrewsbury. He lives up by the army barracks at Copthorne, about a 5 minute walk from my parents' house! It truly is a small world out here!

After lunch we undertook a two hour trek through the dense jungle. We walked along an escarpment and to a viewpoint where we could look down on the tightly packed mass of trees below us. Our guide spotted a poisoness blue spider guarding his web, Tony's feet were attacked by biting ants and one of the european guys had his blood sucked by a couple of leeches he discovered on his legs. I've never seen a leech before : they look like skinny grey worms who move almost like a slinky (one of those silver springs you had as a kid) walking down the stairs.

Following our descent and exit from Bokor we stopped at Tek Chhouu Falls, a set of small rapids and a pleasant bathing spot. We watched as several of the local children jumped fearlessly into the rapids and floated downstream. As soon as they spotted that a few of us had cameras, they posed, pulled funny faces, performed acrobatics, and splashed around in the water.

The final part of our tour was a 'sunset boat cruise' on a little motorboat decorated with healthy green pot plants and a couple of pensive looking Cambodian children. The scenery was stunning and as the sun began to set the sky took on a beautiful purple and orange hue. The water, which appeared black like treacle, glimmered softly under the sun's fading light. I sat on the deck chatting to Paul and Margaret and enjoying the free beer which had been provided as part of the tour. At the end of the cruise we were dropped off just across from The Rusty Keyhole, where we stopped for a drink and rested our weary sea legs.

Margaret volunteered to accomapny me to Ta Eou, a seafood restaurant right on the riverfront. We fought our way through a delicious meal of crab with pepper whilst chatting enthusiastically about each other's travel experiences. Out of all the people on the tour Margaret was the one person I warmed to straight away. When we left the restaurant at around 10pm the streets were very poorly lit and deserted, save for a few street vendors, moto drivers and stray dogs. We picked up a few rocks to protect ourselves against attacks from the latter two and continued along our way.

I felt a little bit uneasy about a moto driver who seemed to be following us, but we made it back to the guesthouse safely and spent the remainder of the evening chatting to the Danish owner, Angela, the British guy who works there and the Scottish guy from Shrewsbury. We also watched the resident cat catch and taunt a defenseless little mouse. Just before we retired to our beds another storm arrived and the rain was pounding so hard on my bedroom window that it sounded as if it was trying to break into my room.

Photo is of some local children playing in the water at Tek Chhouu Falls, near Kampot.

a crowded mini bus to the sleepy riverside town of Kampot

When we arrived at Rose's Place this morning for breakfast, she made us both laugh by producing two of her deliciously strong Vietnamese iced coffees for us moments after we sat down, no longer needing to ask which beverage we wished to order. It was an endearing touch and one that made us feel valued as customers. For anyone who is planning a visit to Sihanoukville, Rose serves the best iced coffees in the city and also the best (with the possible exception of You Hong Guesthouse in Kratie) in Cambodia.

As it was my final day down on the beach in Sihanoukville, we bought a large $2 bag of fruit (la hong, swai and allah) from Linda, as well as some shacko (which we have since discovered may possibly be rock lobster) and barbequed squid with garlic and chilli, the remains of which we fed to a hungry little kitten who was sat beside us on the sand. Feeling guilty that i'd still not given the beautiful Gali any business, I agreed to let her demonstrate her nail art skills and paint some beautiful purple and gold flowers on to my finger nails. The result looks quite effective but i do feel a bit like i should be wearing a daisy chain around my neck and spreading peace and love throughout the land!

In the evening we returned to Mama Cambodia and shared some fresh spring rolls, shrimps and oyster mushrooms, and a seafood barbeque served with their delicious homemade lemon and pepper sauce. For the second time whilst dining here we watched a Cambodian man at the local market (which is actually more like a store selling fresh produce but without the presence of a ceiling or any walls or doors that one normally associates with the word 'store') saw his way through a huge block of ice. This is how Cambodian restauranteurs purchase ice : in a solid block the size of a coffee table which they saw into smaller chunks before attacking it with a hammer. So when you order an iced coffee, it's not simply a straight-forward task of getting a few ice cubes out the freezer; you'll actually hear the staff violently attacking the enormous hunk of ice, in an attempt to break it into pieces small enough to fit in your glass!

When we arrived back at the guesthouse, one of the guests had just put a film on : a horror movie with Robert De Niro called Hide And Seek. There's nothing like a good horror film before bed and this one certainly had a twist which was a little different from the norm.

The next morning i caught the 'shared taxi' (which is actually more like a minibus) to Kampot ($3, 2hrs). The road was not quite as bad as i'd been led to believe but i did get crammed into the front of the van with nine of the locals, two children and the luggage belonging to the other westerners, who were comfortably sat 3 to a seat in the two back rows. This is not unusual practice in Laos or Cambodia : loclas will never refuse one (or two or three or four!) of their own people a ride, no matter how little space remains within the vehicle. They'll just keep on packing the people in, to the extent that they are sitting on luggage and their heads are touching the roof of the bus. Even in Thailand, they would sit three to a seat in the local buses, in seats only designed for two.

I arrived in Kampot and hitched a free ride to The Blissful Guesthouse from a strange looking moto driver whose eyes were too far apart. Blissful Guesthouse has a comfortable and welcoming atmosphere. It's set amongst lush gardens and the rooms, in an old wooden house, are all tastefully decorated with nice homely touches. There's a fantastic restaurant/chill out area/bookshop (which also offers a rental service and sells a few postcards and items of clothing) downstairs.

In the afternoon I wandered around Kampots streets. It reminded me a little of Savannaket in Laos : lots of crumbling buildings, muddy streets and curious children, and a peaceful riverside location. Kampot is also well known for producing some of the best pepper in the region. As is often the case after a heavy storm (like the one which hit Sihanoukville at 1am this morning), the sun was burning down with all its strength, draining the sweat from my pores and giving me a seemingly unquenchable thirst.

I stopped to cool down and rehydrate at the Epic Arts Cafe. Epic Arts is a charity arts organisation which was formed in 2001, and 50% of all profits made in the cafe go directly into funding workshops and performances. I haven't had a chance to look at the website yet but if you're interested to learn about the kind of work they do, the address is www.teangtnaut.org

After the incident in Sihanoukville, I didn't think it was particularly wise to wander Kampot's streets after dark, so I ate at the guesthouse, with the resident cat curled up beside me on the comfortable wicker chair.

Photo is of the tourist information office and a monument outside it, Kampot.

eating barracuda, phtographing geckos, and hiding from a giant grasshopper!

As we waited for Pros this morning, a moto driver who claimed to be his friend tried very blatantly to steal our business from him. He told us that Pros had called him, said he couldn't make it and that he would take us instead for the same price, yet when we questioned him he didn't know exactly how much this 'same price' was. When we informed Pros, I was surprised that the pair laughed between themselves in much the same way as two people share a joke. In Britain, poaching someone's customers like that would be treated a lot more seriously.

We checked into the Green Gecko, ate breakfast and took advantage of the on-site internet facilities. We were about to head down to the beach when I heard what was now becoming the familiar sound of rain pelting down on the corrugated iron roof. Instead we made a dash over to Rose's Place for an iced coffee and fruit salad, and waited for the rain to stop. In a couple of hours it did, and minutes later the sun was shining brighter than ever in what was now a perfectly cloudless blue sky. I spent the last couple of daylight hours on a very deserted beach, constantly being approached by vendors desperate to regain the business that two hours of rain had cost them.

In the evening we enjoyed a tasty meal of fried calamari, lemon and pepper sauce and rice at Mama Cambodia. We then returned to Rose's Place for another iced coffee, and amused ourselves by watching some overweight western men being serviced by the bar girls in the drinking establishment across the road. When we arrived back at the Green Gecko, there was a wedding party in full flow next door, and we tried very unsuccessfully to sleep through the thumping trance music pulsating through the walls of our room. I recall the words "your mama's a bitch!" from one of the tracks, and remember thinking that it was a strange choice of song to play at a wedding, and therefore a highly inappropriate way to gain popularity with the inlaws!

An annoying combination of incredibly itchy mosquito bites, and an all night party taking place on the other side of the wall to which my bed was situated, meant that sleep remained very elusive for me for the majority of the night. The next morning, the party was still simmering next door, so after eating a huge breakfast at Rose's we headed down to the beach to take a nap under the sun. Unfortunately Kotoe was suffering from bad menopausal stomach cramps, so she returned to the guesthouse a couple of hours later. I started munching my way through a large bag of fruit I bought from our fruit lady, Linda, and shared the remainder with an Israeli guy called Gilad, who had taken up residence next to me on the beach. The two of us chatted for a few hours (he has also just moved from Ochheuteal beach and is possibly heading to Kampot tomorrow), agreed on the merits of mango and entered into the big pineapple and papaya debate!

I met Kotoe back at the guesthouse around 5pm, and the two of us caught a moto taxi over to Ku-Kai again for dinner. Considering neither of us were especially hungry, we managed to munch our way through bonito (which Kotoe thinks is a kind of swordfish), striped threadfin, and barracuda sashimi with soy sauce and wasabi, deepfried barracuda (yes, we like barracuda!) and two onigiri, as well as a couple of mugs of Angkor and a pot of Japanese green tea. I got a round of applause from a Japanese man at the adjacent table when he heard me ask the waiter, "be du wo kudasi?" (Can i have a beer please?) - apparently with perfect pronounciation and accent. Clearly I have a good teacher in Kotoe.

Back at the guesthouse we spent an amusing evening photographing geckos, conducting a harmless experiment using a green backed beetle, a bug which looked like a coffee bean, a long-bodied creature with huge antennae, and a large piece of over-ripe sweet banana (did you know that beetles always climb uphill but will never walk down?), and hiding from a large green insect that looked like a giant grasshopper. The creature in question measured about 15cm in length, 5cm in width, was grasshopper green in colour and had an interesting leaf design on his wings. I successfully took a photograph of it in an attempt to identify it, but the flash frightened him, he took flight and headed straight towards me! I managed to duck just in time and avoided his flight path but it left Kotoe and I both frightened and intrigued. We sat on the wicker sofa outside our room, hiding under the security of Kotoe's sarong, only our eyes poking out over the top. Anyone watching us would have thought we were watching an incredibly scary horror film and not an insect more than 100th of our size.

Photo is of Kotoe and a rather sunburnt me at Ku-Kai Restaurant, Sihanoukville.

making bracelets, eating sashimi and a move up to Victory Hill

This morning we bought shack-o again for breakfast, from the lady who now calls us "my friends". Buying from the same person has its benefits : we get bigger, juicier and more shack-o for our dollar every time we buy. If nothing else i'm certainly going to miss all the fresh seafood from Sihanoukville.

We headed over to Ochheuteal beach around lunchtime so that we could sample some of the delicious looking Khmer Tom Yum that we'd seen a couple of the locals tucking into at Khin's Shack a few nights ago. Whilst we were waiting for our food to arrive we had a $1 pedicure from a very skinny, very sweet lady who took great pride in her work. She left with the widest grin on her face, excited that she'd now be able to go to the market in the evening to buy some food for her family. If parting with a dollar can bring such happiness to someone who is genuinely in need of the money, then it's a dollar I don't mind losing.

There are so many people begging on the beach - amputies and blind men - who become angry and aggressive when you refuse to give them money, as if their physical condition entitles them to a portion of everyone else's wealth. The pedicurist clearly had a problem with her back and one of her legs (she walked hunched over and with a limp) and was seriously underfed, but she has still found a trade from which she can earn her living and doesn't rely upon the sympathies of others.

Khmer Tom Yum is a lot tastier than the Thai version I've tried. It's more like a sauce than a soup and brimming with numerous varieties of vegetables, as well as peanuts, shrimp and squid. It's served in a large boiling silver donut-shaped utensil with rice and chilli.

We left Khin's Shack just as a storm was approaching and made it back to the guesthouse just before it arrived. We sat in our room for a couple of hours listening to the rain pelting down on the pavement outside and watching several geckos scurry through the crack at the top of the door to take shelter. Finally our thirst got the better of us and we ran over to Happa, unsuccessfully dodging the huge droplets of rain falling in rising quantities from the sky. We shared a pot of Japanese green tea, perused the handicraft shop and when she wasn't busy serving customers, we chatted with the Japanese lady who part owns the business with her German husband.

We told her about the robbery last night and she wasn't surprised. She recalled an incident only ten days ago when two Cambodian guys had pulled a gun on three western tourists. It had taken place right outside our guesthouse, and the tourists - obviously rather shaken up after the event - had taken refuge inside Happa. I had wanted to move after three days at Serendipity beach - for a change of scenery more than anything else - but after learning about this incident and the fact that it had happened so close to home, Kotoe was also convinced that a move up to Victory Hill may not be such a bad idea.

The next morning we decided to spend the day over at Victory beach and find ourselves some new accommodation up at Victory Hill. We shared a bit of banter with one of the moto drivers, Pros, down at the beach. He wanted $2 for the ride over there but we knew it cost no more than a dollar, because we had put a whole tank of fuel into our bike for 3500RIEL. So we began to walk away, grinning to ourselves, waiting for Pros to follow us, catch us up and agree upon the $1 price, which he did - sheepishly. Once he'd recovered from the dent to his pride he chatted cheerfully to us, we warmed to him and subsequently offered him our business again for the ride home around 5pm.

We ate breakfast at Rose's Place, a small upstairs dining establishment that i'd chosen because it looked a little more 'local' than its neighbouring counterparts. We drank strong Vietnamese iced coffee, and munched our way through a huge fruit salad of banana, pineapple, papaya and mango drizzled in honey - all for just 5000RIEL (a little over a dollar). We then secured ourselves a $4 room at The Green Gecko Guesthouse, which we'd be able to check into first thing tomorrow morning.

Victory Beach may not be as attractive as Serendipity beach and there's not much of a cross breeze, but it's cleaner, and if anything it's a little quieter than Serendipity. We took a seat at Jungle Beach, a shaded area with funky lights hanging from the trees and a large blackboard advertising fresh Barracuda. We bought some fresh spring rolls which we shared with a hungry little girl selling bracelets, and we purchased a bag of fresh fruit from a very chatty, very smiley lady who sat down with us and taught us some Khmer. We already knew a few of the phrases but i will write them down phonetically for future reference :

• Swai - Mango
• La Hong - Papaya
• Jai - Banana
• Allah - Watermelon
• S'ua S'dai - Hello
• Lee Hai - Goodbye
• Sok Sabaii - How are you?
• Oh Kohn - Thank you
• Ot de oh Kohn - No, thank you
• June bow neh awee mean som nang la-awe - Good luck for you in Cambodia

We were subsequently joined by a girl who must have been about 15 or 16, also offering fruit and bracelets for sale, as well as manicures and pedicures. We made it clear we were not interested in any of the above but she still remained friendly towards us. After Kotoe had shown me how to make a twisted bracelet a few nights ago, I had been on the look out for some colourful pieces of thick cotton from which to try and make one. I noticed the girl (Ga-li) had a bag full of them, and I asked if I could buy some. However, despite already having denied her business, she allowed me to choose 10 of these pieces of cotton, and refused to take any money for them. The three of us proceeded to spend the next few hours making bracelets together under the comfortable shade of the trees above us.

In the evening we ate at Ku-Kai (Ku means ocean; Kai means sky), a Japanese restaurant immediately next door to Happa, owned by a Japanese couple who met whilst travelling Cambodia some years ago. We enjoyed rice balls (onigiri) and fresh sashimi (barracuda, vinegared mackeral and yellow-spotted kingfisher) with soy sauce and wasabi, and fried eggplant with white radish and ginger. The flavours brought back so many memories of the time I spent in Japan 18 months ago, memories which are unfortunately a little bit tainted now (due to the subsequent actions of a certain person who is no longer worthy of having his name mentioned) but which make me smile all the same.

Photo is of sunset at Victory beach, Sihanoukville.

Mangrove swamps, mudbaths, snakes and a pair of thieves in the night

After a couple of lazy days on the beach, we decided to explore a little of the surrounding area today and hire a motorcycle to make the 26km journey out to Ream National Park. It's frighteningly easy to hire a motorcycle out here in Cambodia : you don't need a licence and you don't even need to have ridden a motorcycle before. Fortunately Kotoe had owned a scooter back in Japan for some years and the 125cc motorbike which we rented from the Diamond Guesthouse was quite similar in its operation.

Ream National Park is located just of Route 4, an undulating but straight road slicing its way through the Cambodian countryside. When we pulled into the ranger station, we were met by a Jica (Japanese International Co-operation Agency) representative who happened to be from the same province in Japan as Kotoe. This worked in our favour and we managed to get a $10 discount off the $30 price to charter our own private motorboat around the national park. We relaxed on the deck of the boat as we were transported through dense mangrove swamps, several storks, some jumping shrimp and a few fisherman being the only other signs of life upon the calm shallow waters.

Our relaxing river journey became a little less relaxing when we reached the end of the wide river and were about to turn into the smaller tributary leading back up to the pier. It was still low tide and the water was not deep enough here to carry the weight of the boat, so our vehicle became stuck in the mud. Following our driver's failed attempt to shift the boat, Kotoe and I volunteered our services. I stepped out of the boat and my entire leg, knee and half my thigh disappeared into a river of dense clay-like mud. It took a huge amount of effort to simply move my legs through the mud, let alone try to move the weight of the boat through it. No wonder our driver was struggling! Eventually, with the four of us (our driver, English-speaking guide, Kotoe and I) wading knee deep through the muddy waters, pushing the boat forward with all our strength and being watched by amused onlookers from another tourist boat upon the river, we managed to move the boat into deeper waters. Once we had done this the driver was very quick to restart the engine and as Kotoe and I were unable to walk as fast as the speed of the boat, we were almost being pulled along through the mud. Clinging on to the side of the boat, I managed to clamber aboard in the style of a beached whale, my legs caked in inches of thick mud reminiscent of those face packs they sell at Boots.

Shortly after we'd restarted the journey, the skies began to darken and large grey rain clouds floated into view. Within minutes there were large droplets of cold rain pelting down upon the roof of the boat. The other tourist boat had lost its roof in the wind and the couple aboard were attempting to keep dry under the shelter of a very flimsy umbrella. As soon as the boat docked, we jumped back on the motorbike and headed back into Sihanoukville, the hard rain burning my face and making it difficult to see.

We drove to Victory Hill (above Victory beach), and drank some warming coffee at Na Na Restaurant. Victory Hill (the original backpacker ghetto in Sihanoukville) looked very unattractive in the rain and there was no-one around, save for a tiny gathering of moto drivers parked at the end of the road. Once we'd dried off a little we headed over to The Snake House, an inventive little restaurant set amidst a flourishing reptile house. The glass-topped tables contain snakes inside and the nearby pond houses a rather ferocious looking crocodile who surfaces cunningly as you approach.

If you don't choose to eat here, there is a fee of $1 to see the snakes, which includes a free soft drink. Among the snakes on display, there is a white python, an oriental whipsnake, a long-nosed whipsnake, and an indo-chinese ratsnake, as well as some turtles, a couple of forest geckos and an odd looking furry creature with huge eyes. It's certainly a unique dining experience, but for those more adventurous meat-eaters, the snakes are only for show and not for consumption!

After leaving The Snake House we watched the sunset at Victory Beach and then headed back to the guesthouse. In hindsight I wish we'd have returned the motorbike at this point but as we still had half a tank of fuel we decided to hang on to the bike for the evening and drive into downtown Sihanoukville to find a place to eat. Unfortunately we took a wrong turn off the Three Lions roundaboat and ended up driving down the road to Sokha Beach, a road which was very poorly lit once we passed the enormous 5 star hotel complexes which surrounded Sam At Lake.

We were driving quite slowly as I was looking at the map to try and find a road that would lead us back into the centre of town. Two Cambodian guys on a motorbike appeared to be trying to pass us but were driving a little too close for comfort. Kotoe attempted to speed up but as she did the guys drove past and a hand came out to grab Kotoe's bag from the basket on the front of our bike. As the bag was actually locked on to the basket, their attempt had been unsuccessful but it had managed to throw our bike off balance and the two of us fell on to the grass verge at the side of the road.

Once we realised we weren't hurt - other than what would probably turn out to be a few cuts and bruises - we got up, remounted the bike and were about to start the engine to make our escape. However, in the time that it had taken us to do this, the guys had turned the bike around and one of them had returned to our bike on foot and made another grab for the bag. Kotoe tried to hit the guy to throw him off balance so that we could drive away but in a split second he had managed to wrench the bag, together with the basket it was still locked to, off the front of the bike, and started to run down the road, where his accomplice was waiting for him on the motorbike.

Instinctively we both leapt off our bike and let it fall to the ground whilst we chased after the guy. Clearly he hadn't banked on us doing this, as I caught him up pretty quickly and made a grab for the bag. He tugged it from my grasp, and belted me around the head with the basket it was still attached to. Once I had recovered from the shock of the impact and managed to steady myself again to continue the chase, the guy had jumped on the motorbike and the two of them had sped away. Kotoe had been unable to catch him either. Following much cursing and shouts of "fucking wankers!" and "I cannot believe he came back for it!", we jumped back on the bike, my head still thumping, and returned to the safety of our guesthouse.

Although the contents of her bag ($20, a camera, several memory sticks full of photos she was about to burn to CD, and a watch) were not insured, I tried to persuade Kotoe to go to the police station for three reasons :

1. If, as was the case when I was mugged back home and my bag was stolen, the thieves were only after the money, the bag and the remainder of its contents may be dumped, found and handed in.
2. If we had a crime reference number and the rental company (whom we'd hired the bike from) were insured, we would not have to pay for a replacement basket and padlock ourselves.
3. We'd picked up the thief's shoes (which he'd lost whilst running away from me) and I was hanging on to the possiblity that the police (or rather, a police dog) may be able to trace him from his footwear.

In reality, I was probably looking at the whole situation with a slightly idealistic viewpoint. The chances of the bag being handed in were very minimal, it's very unlikely the rental company were insured (as no-one in Cambodia seems to have insurance) and i'd be very surprised if a policeman would be prepared to waste one of his dogs (if he has one) or his time on investigating an incident which is probably not altogether uncommon. When we returned the bike and paid $8 for the damages, we discovered that it's actually quite a common occurance in this part of Cambodia : within the last few days, there have been another 2 incidents that the staff at The Diamond Guesthouse know about (one of them involved a couple being pushed off the motorbike and the motorbike itself stolen!) as well as the possible incidents they don't know about.

Having returned the bike we walked down to the beach and ordered two large mugs of cold Angkor beer and Kotoe chain smoked about 3 cigarettes! In light of the situation Kotoe remained very calm and positive. I was seething with hate for the pair, furious that people like that can get away with such crimes and such brutal treatment of other human beings. Momentarily we laughed , recalling the way Kotoe had punched the guy and I had chased after him, and imagining how different the situation would have been if we were both martial arts experts. But, as rumbles of thunder approached and flashes of lightening illuminated the sky, I quietly hoped that a thunderbolt would find its way to that shoeless, heartless, cowardly little man, running through the streets with Kotoe's memories in his hand.

Photo is of a longnosed whipsnake, The Snake House, Sihanoukville.

Shack-o, mango and Japanese dining

We headed down to the beach again this morning and spotted a lady with what looked like a tray of large shrimp balanced on her head. She told us they were lobster but upon closer inspection Kotoe identified them as "shack-o" (which is the phonetic Japanese spelling, as she didn't know the English word for them and i'm pretty sure it's not a crustacean i've ever eaten before). We bought 10 of the creatures to eat for breakfast, coated in black pepper and lemon juice. They taste similar to shrimps and are - according to Kotoe - used as bait to catch Snapper.

As we ate we were constantly interrupted by children selling bracelets, sarongs, and shrimps woven from colourful pieces of cotton. I bought a $2 anklet for a dollar from a cheeky little boy who can't have been more than 7 or 8 years old but had already perfected some effective sales techniques. Later on in the day, at exactly the time my mouth was watering for some juicy pieces of mango, another little boy appeared and asked, "you wanna buy my fruit?". At any other point in the day my answer would have been a disinterested "no" but on this occasion he secured my business simply by a very co-incidental piece of good timing. Having exchanged a large bag of ripe mango for a dollar, he skipped across the sand with a huge grin spread across his tiny little face.

This evening, having been given a flyer for Mick and Craig's Mexican Restaurant earlier on in the day, we decided that the concept of tucking into a sour cream and chilli bean fajita sounded rather appealing. Unfortunately when we arrived at the joint, the prices weren't so appealing (the seafood platter last night cost me less than most of the dishes on Mick and craig's menu), so we politely drank a Vietnamese coffee and then departed, in search of a slightly cheaper dining option.

We chose Happa (Japanese for Leaf or Leaves), a newly opened and tastefully decorated Japanese and Khmer restaurant, which also sells locally made handicrafts. It's run by a Japanese lady and a German man (who also speaks fluent Japanese) and I think Kotoe was pleased that she could actually have a conversation in her native language, for the first time in weeks. The food was rather slow in arriving but when it did it was well wortn the wait. We ate shrimp in a ginger and soy sauce, squid in Kroeng sauce (a Khmer sauce containing lemongrass, galangal, chillis, peanuts and coconut milk) and Okonomiyaki with oyster mushrooms and cheese. Okonomiyaki translates as "whatever you want, fried", "yaki" meaning "fried". When we left it was gone 11pm - we'd spent the best part of 4 hours chatting, eating and drinking the night away.

Photo is of Kotoe and our friendly shacko seller, Serendipity beach, Sihanoukville.

Manicures, razors, and fresh fish

We moved guesthouses this morning, to the cheapest available room with two beds, which was at Sea Sun Guesthouse, right at the top of the beach road, and about five minutes walk from the coast. The room, at $7, is still expensive by south east asian standards, but unfortunately it's the price you pay for having the beach (almost) on your doorstep!

Sihanoukville seems more of a holiday destination than a backpacker's joint. Locals and expats living in Phnom Penh make the four hour journey here to escape the crouds and pollution that are inadvertantly part of life in the capital city. I also get the impression that it's becoming a popular spot for westerners looking for an alternative to Thailand's beaches.

The girl who secured our business yersterday had no trouble locating us on the beach this morning, and proceeded to give us both the manicure we'd agreed to. I've never had a manicure before and I liked the results but I'm not sure I'd pay any more than $2 for something I can probably do, without too much effort, myself. Kotoe bought the girl, Som, a drink afterwards, which gained us popularity amongst her and her companions. Many of her colleagues were hard at work : an older gentleman was having his nose hairs removed, a large sunburnt man was receiving a shoulder massage and one of his friends was lying face down in the sand, having his back pummled by a lady in pyjamas.

This is one of the bizarre sights we've encountered since our arrival in Cambodia : women and girls wearing what looks - to all intents and purposes - like a pair of pyjamas. This wouldn't seem so strange if it were within the restraints of their own homes, but evidently it is not. Women serve at guesthouses and restaurants, shop at markets, catch lifts on motorbikes, and do business on the beach - all whilst dressed in their pyjamas. I'd love to know why they chose to dress in such a way but until I do Kotoe and I will laugh quietly between ourselves.

After removing the nasal hairs of the gentleman who was sat over the other side of the table, the lady decided to take up residence in the empty seat beside me. Disappointed that my legs were already hairless and that I'd remembered to shave my armpits, she then targetted my face. "You have small hair on your face. I can make smooth", she said. "No thank you" I replied, "I like my small hair". Unperterbed, she continued, "You like, I show you" as she took hold of my face and I felt something rough on my cheeks. It wasn't until Kotoe finished her conversation with Som and turned around to face me that i was alerted to the fact that the lady had a razor in her hand and was actually shaving my face! She was shaving in places I didn't even know I had hair - like my forehead!?! When she'd finished I felt like the top layer of my face had been removed with a cheese grater! If the fact that i'd just had my face shaved wasn't bad enough then the fact that the lady actually asked me for money for doing it was!

This evening we walked over to Ochheuteal beach (the local's hangout) in search of a nice restaurant at which to consume some fresh seafood. We passed many of the locals enjoying the last of the New Years celebrations, many were holding their own private firework displays along the seafront. The speakers inside several of the restaurants were spreading the jovial sounds of Cambodian music out across the ocean. Revellers dined and chatted loudly amongst themselves, sharing drinks and laughter. Others, especially children, danced in time with each other on the sand. We chose Khin's Shack because of a lively young girl who bounced over to us and said the words "discount". So we bartered the seafood platter down from $10 to $8. $4 is probably the most expensive meal I've eaten since I've been travelling, however the seafood here tasted so fresh and so delicious that I think it's the best $4 I've spent for some time.

Photo is of two child vendors selling bracelets on Serendipity beach, Sihanoukville.

Cleaning up the dirty waters at Serendipity beach

Kotoe and I caught the bus down to Sihanoukville this morning. We'd decided that after spending nine days in Phnom Penh, a change of scenery was in order. We were also hoping to get caught up in some New Years celebrations on the beach. Fortunately we'd managed to secure the last available seats on the 8:15am bus. Unfortunately these seats were right at the back of the bus, directly on top of the engine. After an hour on the bus my feet were cooking; after two hours I felt like I was sitting in a sauna and in desperate need of some fresh air. I was willing the bus to stop, whivch it did about half an hour later, at a small cafe which sold fresh papaya and green mango with salt and chilli.

When we arrived in Sihanoukville there were several moto drivers offering us a ride to Serendipity beach, insisting that it was 4km away and that it was impossible to walk. According to our map it was only 2, and as we'd left the bulk of our luggage in Phnom Penh, we decided to give it a go. In less than 30 minutes we'd passed the Three Lions Roundabout and were treading the sandy path leading down to the ocean, the fresh salty smells of the sea in the air. There is a scattering of guesthouses along the beachfront (Eden, Coasters, Nap's House) but overall Serendipity beach was a lot quieter than I'd expected. Despite the fact that it was a public holiday and the majority of the guesthouses were full (and charging inflated prices), the beach was surprisingly empty. We managed to secure the only remaining room under $10, at The Diamond Guesthouse, just a short walk up from the beach.

We took a seat at the Same Same Restaurant on the beach and ordered a drink whilst we soaked up the smells of the sea and listened to the rise and fall of the waves. Less than 10 minutes after we'd sat down, we were surrounded by a group of young girls offering massages and manicures. One girl took hold of my little finger and proceeded to cut away at the skin around my nail, shape my nail and coat it in lemon juice. I was actually pleased with the result and we both warmed to the girl's cheeky but friendly nature, so we agreed to treat our nails to a $2 manicure the following day.

We then spent a lazy afternoon on the beach. Kotoe disappeared for a swim and i managed to locate her about an hour later, plastic bag in hand, wading through the water. She was disgusted to find the water so dirty that she'd taken it upon herself to clean it up! Before long there were three other people voluntarily helping her to collect rubbish from the ocean. My conscience wouldn't let me simply sit and watch so i too waded into the very warm and very littered waters and gathered rubbish in one of the many plastic bags floating around on the surface of the water. We picked up rubber gloves, plastic spoons, playing cards, underwear, washing powder packets from Vietnam, as well as the usual empty packets of crisps and drink cartons and sweet wrappers. One girl, an Australian called Kate, actually works just outside Phnom Penh, at a conservation site looking after turtles. She was so impressed with our concern for the environment that she invited us back to her guesthouse cafe and bought us both drinks. We chatted with her and her friends, and petted her beautiful black dog, Gus, before heading back to The Diamond, just as night was beginning to fall.

Photo to follow.

A very wet and powdery Khmer New year!

I narrowly escaped a water fight at Number 10 The Lakeside this morning. The staff and guests were chasing each other around with bottles of water, and the only reason I managed to stay dry was due to my close proximity to electrical equipment, as I checked my email on one of their computers!

Kotoe and I headed down to Wat Phnom again in the afternoon and were pleased to find the place crawling with people, the sounds of music, screams and laughter filling the nearby streets. The grounds were so busy that even the resident monkeys had been forced to retreat into the trees. The temple itself was alive with colour, flags draped around the outside and each Buddha image was decorated with fresh coconuts and lotus flowers and beautifully crafted offerings made from banana leaves. The smell of incence filled the air. On the lower level a large sound system had been set up in front of a colourful painting of Khmer dancers. A number of Cambodian teenagers were moving to the rhythmic urban sounds being emitted from the speakers. On the street level food vendors filled the grounds and there were beggars at every corner, many missing limbs and one man displaying a blood-red gaping wound in one of his legs.

We began to walk around the base of the temple, constantly being met by the sight of powdery-faced Cambodians. Eager to join the race of ghostly apparitions, we purchased a 2000RIEL bottle of baby powder from one of the Cambodian children who seemed to have endless supplies in their possession. The second we held one of these in our hands, the onslaught began, almost as if the fact that we were in possession of baby powder at once gave them permission to attack. From behind I felt a pair of hands across my cheeks, I heard a mischievous giggle and the words "Happy New Year!" in my ear, and I turned around to see the face of a grinning Cambodian girl, a wicked glint in her eye : the anticipation of retaliation.

So we retaliated and a chase ensued, and we surfaced minutes later looking like we'd been caught in the middle of a serious icing sugar explosion! After laughing hysterically at each other's appearances, we continued around the grounds, in search of some unsuspecting victims and armed with the remaining contents of the baby powder bottle in our hands. Kotoe spotted a well-dressed, well-groomed, spotlessly clean tall Cambodian man wearing shades and standing on the grass in front of us, his back towards us. He seemed strangely out of place amidst the beggars, food vendors, and revellers. Kotoe crept up behind him, baby powder in hand, all ready to soil his crisp, unspoilt appearance. Now I don't know whether he heard us talking and understood our English or whether he possessed a sixth sense and super fast reaction time, but it was like a scene out of The Matrix the way he sped across the grass with such style. The whiteness of his smug, sparkling smile as he ran, was as immaculate as his attire.

After a couple of hours of having the most fun I've ever had with a bottle of baby powder, we decided to leave Wat Phnom and check out how the rest of the city were celebrating new year. It must be one of the only occasions that it's ok to walk the streets of a capital city covered head to toe in ghostly white powder. Yes, you'll get laughed at, but at least people won't think you're crazy! We walked to the market, which was noticeably quieter than yesterday's hive of activity. We sat down at one of the remaining tables, ordered an iced coffee and noodle soup each and wiped the powder from our faces. Just as we had done so, we looked across to one of the other tables and spotted one of the guys we'd had a powder fight with at Wat Phnom, one of his cheeks still faintly advertising the evidence of this fact.

After we'd eaten, we sauntered on down to the riverfront. It wasn't as busy as Wat Phnom had been but there were still crowds of people milling around. There was live music, and people praying, incence sticks held between the palms of their hands. There were also street vendors with cages full of birds, offering people the chance (at a price) to set the creatures free.

The evening was drawing in as we began our walk back down Sisowath Quay. However the revellers were still out in force and very soon we were whiter and wetter than when we left Wat Phnom. Local kids and teenagers were armed with plastic bags full of water. As well as throwing them at passing 'barang', they also aimed them at motorists as they drove past. Evidence, in the form of burst plastic bags, lay scattered all over the road. One motorcyclist was hit with such force that he lost control of his bike and he and two fellow passengers fell, like dominoes, on to the road below, still with smiles on their faces. There were police in the vicinity, who had very much turned a blind eye to the waterbombing until the incident with the motorcycle occured and the traffic drew to an abrupt standstill.

As we arrived back at the lakeside and neared our guesthouse I spotted one of the locals carrying a huge water gun. He hadn't seen us and as he turned his back on us I emptied the remaining baby powder into my hands, tiptoed towards him and rubbed my hands across his chheks. "Happy New Year!", I smiled. AS I expected, he turned around, a full tank of water strapped across his shoulder, and chased Kotoe and I down the road, washing the powder from our faces and clothes.

All was quiet at our guesthouse when we returned, until later on in the evening when one of the staff, baby powder in hand, decided to decorate the faces of all her guests. Kotoe and I were the only tourists who willingly joined in the fun. We grabbed some baby powder, ensured all the staff were as decorated as we were, and the took it in turns to chase the two guys around with a water gun. Most of the guests didn't batter an eyelid : they continued to play cards, watch TV and drink beer, whilst we ran rings of havoc around them.

Photo to follow.